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THE    DAWN    OF 
ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE 


ITALY  FROM  THE  CONGRESS  OF  VIENNA,  1814 
TO  THE  FALL  OF  VENICE,  1849 


WILLIAM    ROSCOE  THAYER 


S'  io  III  vera  son  fimido  ainico, 
Temo  di  perder  vita  tra  color o 
Che  quest o  tempo  chiiimeranno  iintico. 

Dante:  Paradiso,  xvii,  iiS-120. 


IN   TWO  VOLUMES 
VOLUME   I 


Ibjiimn^t^cpiTga 


HOSTON    AM)    Ni:\V    VOKK 

HOUGHTON',  ^^FFI,IX    AM)    COMPANY 

Che  lulicrsiOe  ^3rcs8,  Cambntiot 


Copyright,  1892, 
By  WILLIAM   ROSCOE   THAYER. 

All  rights  reserved. 


The  TUver^ide  Press,  Cambrklge,  Mass.,  U.  S.  A. 
Elettrotyped  and  Printed  by  H.  O.  Houghton  &  Company. 


CONTENTS   OF   VOLUME  I. 


BOOK   FIRST. 
THE   INHERITANCE. 

CRiU>.  PAGB 

I.    ROMAN    AND   BARBARIAN 1 

II.    CHARLEMAIN    AND    THE    SPELL    OF    ROME  .  .  .  IG 

III.  DEVELOPMENT    OF    STATE    AND   CHURCH        .  .  .  .      2'i 

IV.  MANY    REPUBLICS,    BUT    NO    NATION            ....  4.'3 
V.    DANTE 52 

VI.    THE  RENAISSANCE 60 

VII.    REACTION    AND    DECLINE 72 

VIII.    SCIENCE    AND    FOLLY 82 

IX.    NEW   VOICES    AND    REVOLUTION Do 

BOOK   SECOND. 
THE   DOOM   OF   TYRANNY. 

I.    THE   CONGRESS    OF    VIENNA 110 

II.    THE    RETURN    OF   THE    DESPOTS,    1814-15     .  .  .131) 

III.  FOREIGN    INTRIGUES 17'J 

IV.  CONSPIRACIES 190 

V.    NAPLES    IN    REVOLUTION,    1820 215 

VL  THE    REVOLUTION    IN    PIEDMONT,     1821  ....  253 

VII.  RETRIBUTION    .........  271) 

VIII.  UNDERCURRENTS,    1820-30 312 

IX.  THE    REVOLUTIONS    OF    18.31 342 

BOOK    THIRD. 
WHILE   GREGORY    XVI    PO.N'TIFICATES 

I.    CONSPIRACY    GETS    ITS    LK.\I)EK    ......    371) 

II.    THE    DECADE    OF    CONTK.VDICTKtNS,    183.3-43    .  40 1 

III.    THE    POLITICAL    REFORMERS  .....  121> 


"RA.  LAi_     r,     .  -  ^ 


-t^}t  _ 

THE  DAWN  OF  ITALIAN  INDEPENDENCE. 


BOOK  FIRST. 

THE  INHERITANCE. 


Ahi  serva  Italia,  di  dolore  ostello, 
Nave  senza  nocchiere  in  gran  tenipesta, 
Non  donna  di  provincie,  ma  bordello  ! 

Dante,  Purgatorio,  vi,  76-78. 


CHAPTER  I. 

ROMAN   AND   BARBARIAN. 

The  gradual  regeneration  of  the  Italians  during  the 
first  half  of  the  nineteenth  century  must  be  described, 
like  the  convalescence  of  a  patient  from  a  long  sickness, 
by  symptoms  much  more  than  by  startling  occurrences. 
We  must  look  for  signs  of  progress  in  the  as})irations 
rather  than  in  the  achievements  of  any  conspicuous  load- 
ers. For  this  movement  was  inward  and  siil)tle  ;  and  its 
outward  expression  in  deeds  was  stubbondy  repressed. 
In  order,  therefore,  to  tell  truthfully  this  very  significant 
episode  in  the  life  of  modern  Euroju',  I  shall  draw  infor- 
mation from  many  sources,  passing  from  the  narration  of 
events  to  tlie  biogra})hy  of  a  ro])rcscntative  man,  or  ])aus- 
ing*to  examine  a  custom  or  a  book,  which  may  often  serve 
better  than  official  documents  to  rev(>al  the  forces  work- 
ing below  the  surface  in  Italy.  I  sliall  be  fortiuiate  if  1 
succeed  by  any  means  in  recalling  from  the  "  dark  back- 


2  THE   DAWN   OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

ward  and  abysm  of  Time  "  the  living  motives  and  high 
influences  which,  penetrating  the  Italian  heart,  revived 
self-respect  in  it,  and  courage,  and  slowly  fitted  it  to  rise 
from  serfdom  to  independence.  When  a  man  reforms  his 
life,  and,  putting  away  his  follies,  rises  to  take  his  place 
among  the  strong  and  righteous,  we  are  edified :  how 
much  greater,  then,  should  be  our  interest  and  edification 
at  beholding  an  entire  people,  who,  long  sunk  in  moral 
and  political  misery,  lift  themselves  into  the  comradeship 
of  their  best  neighbors.  This  spectacle,  the  noblest  that 
Europe  has  had  to  show  in  our  century,  unfolds  itself  to 
our  view  as  we  follow  the  history  of  the  modern  Italians. 

It  is  evident  that  in  the  brotherhood  of  states,  as  in 
the  family  or  the  community,  the  welfare  of  all  must  be 
attained  through  the  excellence  of  each  of  the  members 
according  to  his  qualities.  Every  wealding,  every  idler, 
diminishes  the  common  prosperity.  To  develop  each  in- 
dividual to  the  utmost  limit  compatible  with  the  general 
weal  is  the  goal  towards  which  destiny  urges  mankind. 
Hitherto,  this  process  has  residted  in  the  formation  of 
strong  individuals,  and  in  concentrating  and  intensifying 
the  traits  peculiar  to  each  race  ;  for  the  first  command- 
ment given  to  every  creature  in  the  physical  world  is.  Be 
strong^  if  thou  wouldst  survive.  But  individualism,  when 
unrestrained  and  unspiritualized  by  the  recognition  of  a 
larger  communion  of  interests,  is  selfish  and  partial ;  it 
uses  its  strength  brutishly  ;  its  neighbor  is  not  a  brother, 
but  an  enemy,  to  be  robbed  or  crippled  or  enslaved.  The 
past  has  witnessed  the  endeavor  of  race  after  race  to  make 
itself  supreme  by  absorbing  all  the  power  of  its  fellows 
and  by  holding  them  in  subjection.  But  we  stand  on  the 
threshold  of  a  new  age,  in  which  time  and  distance  and 
the  barriers  of  Nature  have  been  overcome  ;  when  the 
products  of  one  land  can  be  transported  swiftly  to  other 
lands,  and  when  the  utterances  and  events  in  one  hemi- 
sphere are  known  immediately  in  the  other.     And  now 


ROMAN    AND    BARBARIAN.  3 

we  begin  to  perceive  that  the  fate  of  each  people  is  inter- 
woven with  that  of  all  the  rest.  Interdependence  is  as 
necessary  as  independence,  and  whatever  law  of  trade, 
whatever  intriguing  of  diplomacy,  aims  only  at  selfish  and 
local  gain^  though  it  seems  for  a  time  to  benefit  the  ego- 
tist, will  inevitably  weaken  him,  because  it  weakens  his 
neighbors.  The  swarm  is  harmed  when  a  single  bee  is 
harmed.  The  old  politics  took  no  note  of  this,  nor  have 
present  Ministries  given  heed  to  it ;  but  there  is  the  fact, 
and  all  the  inventions  which  make  commercial  intercourse 
easy,  and  disseminate  knowledge,  are  prophetic  of  the  ulti- 
mate solidarity  of  mankind.  A  crime  against  one  will  at 
last  be  seen  to  be  a  crime  against  all. 

This  being  true,  how  could  Europe  have  real  health,  so 
long  as  one  of  her  members  —  Italy  —  was  sick  ?  Servi- 
tude debases  not  only  the  slave,  but  the  slave-owuer  and 
those  who  abet  him.  What  wealtli  that  Austria  wrung 
from  the  Italians  could  compensate  her  for  the  moral 
slough  —  the  cruelty  and  selfishness  —  into  which  she  sank 
in  order  to  maintain  her  tyranny  ?  And  what  of  France 
and  England,  what  of  Prussia  and  Russia,  who  consented 
to  the  degradation  ?  The  Italian,  too,  must  have  a  voice 
in  the  Parliament  of  Nations  ;  he,  too,  must  contribute  to 
the  common  treasure  of  humanity  that  which  he,  and  no 
other,  was  peculiarly  adapted  to  produce.  But  first,  lie 
must  be  free,  Italy  must  be  an  independent  nation  ;  for 
no  man  can  speak  the  truth  that  is  in  him  when  the  hand 
of  an  oppressor  is  upon  his  throat. 

How  came  it  to  pass,  then,  that  the  Italians  at  the  be- 
ginning of  the  nineteenth  century  were  not  free  ?  that 
they  seemed  an  exhausted  race,  fit  only  to  grind  wheat 
and  press  out  oil  to  enrich  their  taskmasters  ?  To  answer 
these  questions,  and  to  imderstand  the  regenerative  move- 
ment which  is  the  subject  of  the  present  woik.  we  nnist  take 
a  rapid  survey  over  the  ])ast  ;  for  in  no  other  counlry  was 
the   past   so  tenacious  and   so  authoritative   as   in    Italy. 


4  THE    DAWN   OF   ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

Traditions  there  had  the  force  of  new  and  irresistible  im- 
pulses elsewhere  ;  men  lived  by  memory  alone  ;  customs, 
feuds,  aspirations,  survived  to  shape  conduct  long  after  the 
particular  circumstances  which  begot  them,  or  the  condi- 
tions which  matured  them,  had  ceased  to  exist.  Just  as,  if 
you  drove  a  spade  into  Italian  soil,  you  might  uncover  an 
ancient  statue  or  the  fragment  of  a  cyclopean  ruin,  so  if 
you  but  scraped  the  surface  of  an  institution  or  a  habit, 
you  might  find  that  its  roots  shot  deep  into  a  remote  an- 
tiquity. Past  and  present  seemed  to  grow  side  by  side  ; 
you  could  never  be  sure  that  an  influence  was  dead  or  that 
a  trait  had  been  forgotten.  When  Rienzi  would  have 
established  a  republic  at  Rome,  he  exhorted  his  hearers  to 
be  stirred  by  the  example  of  their  forerunners,  the  Grac- 
chi, though  these  had  been  dead  fourteen  hundred  years, 
and  the  world  had  been  transformed.  Imagine  Hampden 
appealing  to  Bi'itons  by  their  memory  of  Caractacus,  or 
Camille  Desmoulins  rousing  the  French  by  allusions  to 
Vercingetorix  !  In  Italy  alone  was  this  possible,  and  we 
need  therefore  to  know,  at  least  in  epitome,  what  was  the 
inheritance  which  the  Italians  of  whom  we  are  to  treat 
had  received  from  their  ancestors. 

From  the  earliest  times  there  had  never  been  a  united 
Italian  nation.  The  various  tribes  which  occupied  the 
peninsula  were  conquered  one  by  one  by  the  Latins,  who 
carried  Rome  with  them  wherever  they  went,  and  who 
succeeded,  in  the  reign  of  Augustus,  in  converting  Italy 
into  a  uniform  Roman  state.  After  the  age  of  the  An- 
tonines,  —  that  Indian  summer  of  prosperity  and  glory,  — 
the  empire  of  Rome  slowly  fell  asunder :  within,  vice  and 
luxury  and  civil  factions  corrupted  its  integrity  and  sapped 
its  vigor  ;  without,  hosts  of  sturdy  barbarians  swept  down 
the  frontier-bulwarks  and  surged  on  Rome  itself,  —  till  at 
length  Huns  and  Teutons  had  submerged  the  throne  of 
the  Csesars,  and  lay  like  a  flood  over  Italy.  That  calam- 
ity seemed  to  portend  the  ruin  of  the  world ;  and,  indeed, 


ROMAN    AND    BARBARIAN.  5 

for  a  long  time  after  the  waters  had  subsided,  there  seemed 
no  hope  of  reconstructing  civilization  out  of  the  wreck. 
The  invaders  mingling  with  their  conquered  subjects  bred 
a  new  race,  which  gradually  differed  in  language  and 
character  both  from  the  Latin  and  the  barbarian  ;  but  the 
Latin  strain  predomiiaated  in  this  new  people,  which  was 
the  Italian.  Our  purpose  does  not  require  that  we  should 
unravel  the  history  of  tlie  centuries  of  confusion  and  re- 
adjustment when  not  only  Italy,  but  the  whole  Itoman 
world  was  shattered,  and  then  rudely  remodeled. 

Peer  into  that  time  never  so  hard,  you  will  scarcely  dis- 
cern a  recognizable  human  face  turned  towards  yours. 
You  will  see  only  masses  indistinctly,  like  waves  through 
a  fog.  Individual  names  there  are,  but  they  seem  rather 
the  names  of  personified  vices  and  ferocities  than  of  ra- 
tional beings.  Deeds  there  are,  but  collective  and  ill- 
defined,  like  the  forces  which  slowly  transform  autumn 
into  winter.  You  know  that  between  the  fifth  century  and 
the  eleventh,  European  society  was  com])letely  resmelted ; 
that  the  battered  metal  of  Paganism,  ))eing  fused  in  the 
same  furnace  with  Catholicism  and  Teutonism,  produced 
an  alloy  such  as  the  world  had  never  seen.  You  know 
the  chief  traits  of  the  new  civil  system,  the  chief  dogmas 
of  the  new  religion  ;  and  you  repeat  the  names  of  a  few 
score  kings,  warriors,  and  popes,  wliich  stud  that  historical 
waste  like  surveyor's  stakes  to  mai-k  distances  and  l)()un(la- 
ries.  But  to  realize  by  the  force  of  your  imagination  what 
an  individual  man  thought  and  was,  so  that  he  lives  again 
for  you,  is  perlia])s  an  imjwssible  tlnng.  (irowtli  you  see, 
and  change  ;  but  you  cannot  (|ui('kly  ])erc('ive  into  what, 
for  on  the  surface  tluM-e  are  only  tumults  and  wars,  cha- 
otic and  incessant.  You  need  not  look  for  e(»mi)lt'\  mo- 
tives;  the  recorded  actions  of  the  mm  and  women  of  the 
Dark  Age  are  almost  always  traceable  to  the  elementary 
apjM.'tites  of  half-savage  mankind,  —  to  lust,  to  gi-eed.  t(t  ic- 
venge,  to  love  of  fighting.    The  law  of  the  strongest  rules  ; 


G  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

the  weak  can  get,  and  he  expects,  no  mercy.  Yet  above 
the  din  of  clashing  arms,  if  you  listen  attentively  you  can 
hear  the  dull  tapping  of  myriads  of  mattocks  on  the  earth, 
and  the  beating  of  flails  on  the  threshing-floors,  and  the 
thud  of  the  woodman's  axe  in  the  forest ;  for  every  year, 
be  there  quiet  or  carnage,  the  soil  must  be  tilled,  the  crops 
sown,  the  harvests  garnered,  and  the  fuel  stored,  against 
the  coming  of  winter :  and  the  nameless  multitude  of 
serfs  worked  on,  season  after  season,  century  after  century, 
silent,  unquestioning,  without  hope,  grinding  the  grain  for 
another  to  eat,  pressing  out  the  wine  for  another  to  drink. 
Dynasties  appeared  and  vanished,  but  the  race  of  the 
toilers,  stretching  back  to  the  day  when  the  first  man  tilled 
the  first  patch  of  glebe,  was  permanent,  and  the  sound  of 
its  tools  seemed  to  beat  out  a  funeral  march.  The  peas- 
ant literally  belonged  to  the  earth,  to  be  treated  as  a 
natural  force,  like  spring  rains  or  siiinmer  heats.  And  a 
few  men,  like  to  him  in  shape,  but  as  unlike  him  in  privi- 
lege as  the  hawk  is  unlike  the  worm,  came  and  took  from 
him  the  product  of  his  labor.  Himself  but  a  better  tool, 
the  peasant  had  spade  and  plough  to  his  portion ;  and 
when,  worn  out  with  travail,  he  sank  into  the  earth,  or  was 
struck  dowTi  by  some  troop  of  pillagers,  his  sons  toiled  in 
his  stead.  Pathetic,  unmurmuring  del  vers  of  the  fields, 
on  your  humble  shoulders  you  bore  the  foundations  of 
great  cities  and  mighty  empires  ;  you  bent  your  backs  for 
the  arrogant  tread  of  armies ;  yet  you,  neglected  and  un- 
civilized, were  the  corner-stone  of  civilization.  How  many 
ages  should  you  look  dowii  along  the  furrow  and  break 
its  clods,  before  you  suspected  that  you  too  were  human, 
that  you  too  were  entitled  to  a  share,  not  only  of  the  wealth 
you  created,  but  also  of  all  the  excellencies  of  the  world  ? 
Immemorial  0]>pression  has  curved  your  spines  earthwards, 
but  the  time  shall  come  when,  erect  once  more,  you  shall 
look  any  of  your  fellows  in  the  eyes,  and  lifting  your  gaze 
upon  the  stars,  you  shall  say,  ''  We,  too,  are  partakers  in 


ROMAN    AND    BAKBAKIAN.  7 

the  dignity  of  the  universal  scheme,  of  which  these  are 
the  tokens  and  the  promise," 

But  during  ^he  Dark  Age  men  dreamt  not  yet  of  this. 
Society  grew  as  grows  the  coral :  at  first,  a  shapeless  mass  ; 
after  a  century  it  has  put  forth  little  prongs  and  shoots  ; 
after  another,  those  shoots  have  lengthened  into  branches, 
until  at  last  it  stands  there  an  organic  growth,  shapely 
and  marvelous,  with  trunk  and  limbs  and  twigs.  The  social 
organism  which  then  took  shape  and  became  dominant  in 
Western  Europe  until  the  Frencli  Revolution  was  Feudal- 
ism. Its  origin  was  Teutonic  ;  its  fundamental  principle. 
Force.  Each  German  tribe  elected  as  chief  its  strongest 
man.  Part  of  the  booty  taken  in  war  was  distributed 
among  the  tribe  in  common  ;  part  was  reserved  for  him. 
As  the  tribe  prospered,  his  power  increased,  and  his  sliare 
of  plunder  —  land,  cattle,  and  captive  enemies  —  descended 
to  his  sons.  Gradually,  his  office  became  hereditary,  and 
each  tribesman  swore  to  obey  him,  became  ''  his  man." 

In  the  course  of  three  centuries  the  Franks  had  fought 
their  way  to  the  front  of  the  German  tribes,  and  Charle- 
main  was  their  king.  This  extraordinary  man,  the  last  of 
a  family  of  vigorous  soldiers,  is  well-nigh  the  only  being 
of  that  era  wliose  personality  can  be  made  to  live  again  ; 
for  he  was  not  a  monotone,  nor  the  mere  sjugot  of  a  single 
vice  or  passion,  but  a  man  of  many  powers,  excelling  as 
soldier,  as  statesman,  and  as  patron  of  letters  and  educa- 
tion, very  human  in  his  defects,  and  almost  unparalh'led 
in  his  influence  upon  history.  His  genius  it  was  wliieh 
raised  Feudalism  into  a  world-system,  at  least  for  the 
world  of  Christendom.  Over  all  France,  as  far  south  as 
the  Ebro  in  Spain  and  as  the  Liris  in  Italy,  over  Germany 
to  the  Ell)e  and  across  Pannonia  to  the  Theiss,  stretehetl 
his  empire.  Each  district  was  governed  ])y  a  count  or 
duke  whom  he  a])])ointed  ;  and  lest  the  j)rovincials  should 
imagine  that  distance  could  dim  his  wati-hinlncss  oi-  weaken 
liis  su])remaey,  he   sent  every  year  two   ////,s.s/  or  imperial 


O  THE    DAWN    OF   ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

inspectors  among  them,  to  report  upon  their  condition  and 
to  see  that  the  viceroys  were  f aitliful  in  their  stewardship. 
Charlemain  himself  traveled  constantly  through  his  realm, 
to  inquire  into  the  needs  of  his  subjects,  to  dispense  jus- 
tice, to  chastise  rebels,  and  to  fortify  his  outposts  along 
the  borderland  where  his  domain  ended  and  the  unexplored 
wilderness  of  the  barbarians  began.  Merciless  to  his  ene- 
mies, —  did  he  not  cause  forty-five  hundred  Saxons  to  be 
beheaded  at  Verden  ?  —  he  put  aside  his  wrath  when  they 
submitted,  and  treated  them  as  his  own  people,  suffering 
them  to  retain  their  local  customs,  but  imposing  upon  all 
a  uniform  scheme  of  government  and  law. 

The  proof  of  Charlemain's  extraordinary  genius,  and  of 
the  suitableness  of  Feudalism  to  the  needs  of  that  age, 
lies  in  the  fact  that,  before  the  end  of  his  forty  years' 
reign,  a  larger  part  of  Western  Europe  was  reduced  to  or- 
derly government  than  had  been  for  nearly  five  centuries. 
In  an  epoch  when  physical  force  was  the  supreme  test,  a 
system  based  on  force  came  to  be  adopted.  Charlemain 
had  approved  himself  the  strongest  man  in  Christendom, 
as  his  lieutenants  acknowledged  by  becoming  his  vassals. 
Each  received  his  province  or  his  estate  directly  from  the 
sovereign,  on  condition  that  he  should  furnish  a  stipulated 
number  of  troops  when  the  sovereign  required  them. 
Each  great  vassal,  or  over-lord,  then  subdivided  his  terri- 
tory among  other  vassals  on  the  same  terms,  and  these 
again  to  others,  do\\Ti  to  the  petty  knight  who  had  but  a 
few  score  acres  and  half  a  dozen  fighting  retainers,  and 
lower  still  to  tlie  simple  freeman  who  had  only  his  own 
sword  to  serve  with.  Below  all  these  were  the  serfs,  too 
humble  to  be  reckoned  in  this  scheme  :  like  cattle,  they 
went  with  the  soil  and  were  powerless  to  choose  their  mas- 
ters. Force  being  the  arbiter  and  self-preservation  being 
the  strongest  instinct,  it  behooved  every  man  to  get  as 
much  force  on  his  side  as  he  could  :  the  weak  therefore 
turned  to  the  strong  and  voluntarily  accepted  him  as  liege, 


ROMAN    AND    BARBARIAN.  V 

and  was  promised  protection  in  return  for  personal  ser- 
vice. By  this  strange  chain,  made  np  of  links  of  regu- 
larly diminishiijg  size,  —  the  largest  firmly  riveted  in  the 
suzerainty  of  the  emperor,  the  smallest  desperately  clutched 
by  the  poor  freeman,  —  was  society  once  more  held  to- 
gether. So  long  as  the  sovereign  was  Charlemain,  a  man 
not  only  preeminently  strong  but  also  just  and  wise  withal. 
Feudalism  was  a  system  capable  of  promoting  civilization 
by  restraining  the  violent ;  by  soothing  the  terrors  of  the 
weak ;  by  uniting  all  classes  against  the  attacks  of  their 
common  enemies,  the  Huns  on  the  east  and  the  Saracens 
on  the  south ;  by  awakening  in  all  that  sense  of  mutual 
interdependence  without  which  nations  can  be  neither 
compact  nor  concordant ;  and  by  affording  a  ready  means 
of  communication  between  the  head  and  the  members.  A 
beneficial  system,  we  must  pronounce  it,  so  long  as  the 
head  was  strong  and  just ;  when,  however,  the  head  was 
weak  or  wicked,  or  both,  as  soon  came  to  ])ass.  Feudalism 
proved  most  efficacious  in  exasperating  the  very  evils  it 
shoidd  have  quelled. 

Feudalism  is  the  contribution  made  by  the  Teutonic 
races  to  the  ai-t  of  government.  At  the  time  when  it 
reached  its  growth  under  Charlemain,  another  power,  dif- 
ferent alike  in  origin  and  nature,  but  even  more  tremen- 
dous in  its  effects,  rose  to  share  the  dominion  of  the  west- 
ern world.  This  power  was  Koman  Christianity,  The 
teachings  of  Christ,  early  transplanted  to  Kome,  grew  up 
there  in  a  form  determined  by  the  character  of  the  Ro- 
mans. Their  genius,  markedly  adniiuistnitivi'  and  legal, 
imposed  upon  tlie  new  church  an  intricate  system  of  gov- 
ernment and  a  sharply  defined,  dogmatic  ex})ression.  The 
necessities  of  those  early  Christians,  wlio  were  now  toler- 
ated under  sufferance  and  now  jtcrsecutcd  without  mercy, 
intensified  their  natural  tenih'ncy  as  Koinans  towards  a 
compact  organization  and  a  rigid  creed.  You  will  look 
in  vain  anion<r  tlie  recorded  utterances  of  .K'sus  for  any 


10  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

sanction  of  a  hierarchy,  for  any  authorization  of  papal  or 
ecclesiastical  rule.  You  will  find  that  Christ  invariably 
addressed  the  individual  conscience.  He  came  to  call  sin- 
ners to  repentance,  not  by  scaring  them  into  heaven  through 
a  fear  of  hell,  but  by  revealing  to  them  that  righteousness 
alone  can  give  lasting  peace  and  strength  to  the  soul.  And 
he  spoke  not  according  to  tradition,  after  the  manner  of 
Scribes  and  Pharisees,  but  out  of  his  immediate  conviction 
that  virtue  and  right  and  love  are  absolute  and  eternal, 
not  to  be  affected  nor  diminished  by  the  opinions  men  may 
hold  about  them.  The  assent  of  Moses  or  Solomon  could 
not  make  truth  one  jot  more  true ;  nor  could  the  decree 
of  the  Sanhedrim  make  an  unjust  act  just.  Spiritual  laws 
are  absolute ;  they  operate  immediately,  whether  we  at- 
tend to  them  or  not ;  they  were  in  the  past,  from  the  begin- 
ning ;  they  are  in  the  present ;  they  will  be  in  the  future ; 
they  pervade  all  time,  but  they  are  above  time.  And  just 
as  the  physical  laws  discovered  by  Kepler  and  Newton 
were  not  born  at  the  moment  of  discovery,  so  the  spiritual 
laws  unfolded  by  Christ  did  not  originate  with  him  ;  bet- 
ter than  any  one  else,  he  knew  that  their  authority  came 
not  from  him,  but  from  the  Centre  and  Source  of  Life.  By 
a  method  which  has  fitly  been  called  the  method  of  "  sweet 
reasonableness,"  he  explained  these  spiritual  verities,  and, 
what  was  immeasurably  more  important,  he  illustrated 
them  by  the  example  of  his  own  life.  Let  us  not  suppose 
that  virtue  was  first  taught  by  the  gentle  Galilean,  —  wise 
men  had  long  before  confessed  her  in  many  lands,  and 
many  men  had  led  good  and  noble  lives,  —  but  Jesus  pro- 
claimed that  all  men  are  equal  before  God,  and  that  the 
individual  conscience  is  judged  directly  by  the  eternal  laws 
of  the  Spirit.  You  are  better  or  worse,  not  in  proportion 
as  men  think  well  or  ill  of  you,  but  as  you  obey  or  dis- 
obey the  Inner  Voice.  The  rank  and  prestige  of  the  in- 
dividual avail  nothing  in  the  presence  of  these  impartial 
laws.     He  who  follows  them,  though  he  be  a  slave,  has 


ROMAN    AND    BARBARIAN.  11 

the  spiritual  strength  which  they  alone  can  bestow ;  he 
who  departs  from  them,  though  he  be  a  Caesar,  loses  their 
support,  and  in«that  deprivation  is  punished.  The  equality 
of  the  moral  law  and  the  judgment  of  conscience, —  these 
are  Christ's  teachings,  and  they  condemn  the  interposition 
of  any  third  party,  any  church  or  si)iritual  attorney.  I 
can  as  soon  picture  him  being  borne  in  gorgeous  papal 
apparel  into  St.  Peter's,  or,  disguised  in  the  worldly  pomp 
of  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  holding  a  levee  at  Lam- 
beth Palace,  as  I  can  believe  he  meant  to  sanction  the 
clerical  machinery  and  dogmas  which  grew  up  under  his 
name,  and  which,  under  various  forms,  still  pass  for  Chris- 
tianity. 

Christ  appealed  at  first  to  simple,  earnest  men,  who 
needed  but  to  have  the  truth  put  clearly,  and  to  see  it 
exemplified  in  his  actions,  in  order  to  accept  it.  No  mira- 
cles, the  stage-thunder  of  religion,  were  necessary  to  per- 
suade them  ;  those  were  latt'r  devices  for  terrifying  or 
astonishing  minds  less  spiritual  into  belief,  —  minds  that 
required  a  sign,  minds  that  could  be  con\anced  that  Jesus 
was  the  Lord,  as  they  heard  him  called,  only  after  they 
were  assured  that  he  had  turned  natural  laws  topsy-turvy 
and  wrought  wonders  more  amazing  tlian  those  attributed 
to  the  gods  of  other  nations.  As  if  the  recognition  that, 
in  both  the  spiritual  and  pliysical  world,  hurniony  and 
order  prevail  to  attest  the  majesty  and  wisdom  of  (iod 
were  not  immeasurably  more  religious  than  the  Ix'licf  in 
any  scheme  of  afterthoughts,  int('rru))ti«)ns,  and  whims  ! 
As  if  the  turning  of  water  into  wine,  or  the  feeding  of  a 
multitude  with  a  few  loaves  and  iislies.  were  e()in])aralile 
to  the  miracle  of  tliat  career  of  holiness  and  self-abnega- 
tion, or  to  that  Sermon  on  the  Mount  which  has  fui'uished 
food  to  millions  of  souls,  yet  cannot  be  exhausted  !  But 
men  cannot  long  live  tin;  fi"ee  life  of  the  s]»irit,  in  which 
virtu(!  is  its  own  witness  and  justilieatiou  :  before  the  end 
of  the  first  century,  Christianity  had  fallen  from  its  j)ure. 


12  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

spontaneous  estate.  The  fiery  genius  of  Paul  had  molten 
the  spiritual  ore  and  cast  it  into  metaphysical  moulds,  and 
the  Christian  communities  which  sprang  up  in  various 
parts  of  the  Koman  Empire  made  doctrinal  agreement, 
rather  than  conduct,  the  test  of  orthodoxy.  Paul,  be  it 
never  forgotten,  was  the  Oriental  dragoman  who  inter- 
preted Christ's  message  to  the  Greek  and  Latin  world ; 
and  Paul,  preeminently  an  orator  and  a  logician,  could 
not  help  adding  arguments,  the  character  of  which  was 
determined  by  his  temperament,  as  he  translated.  Christ, 
a  Jew,  with  the  Jewish  power  of  illustrating  abstract  truths 
by  vivid  concrete  examples,  had  often  spoken  in  parables ; 
but  over  and  over  again  he  had  warned  his  disciples  that 
the  truth  lay  in  the  spirit  and  not  in  the  letter.  Never- 
theless, owing  partly  to  the  natural  tendency  of  men  to 
mistake  the  S}^nbol  for  the  reality,  and  partly  to  the  fact 
that  an  uncritical  age  attaches  fantastic  and  mystical 
significance  to  the  plainest  words  and  deeds,  Christianity 
soon  began  to  petrify  into  literalism. 

Nowhere  was  this  more  ai^parent  than  among  the  Ko- 
mans,  masters  in  rules  and  codes.  During  the  first  three 
centuries  the  Roman  bishop  enjoyed  no  acknowledged  })re- 
cedence  over  the  bishops  of  Africa  and  the  East ;  but 
when  Christianity  was  decreed  by  Constantine  to  be  the 
State  religion,  the  authority  of  the  Roman  bishop  gained 
great  prestige  in  fact,  if  not  in  the  official  recognition  of 
the  other  churches.  The  Bishop  of  Antioch  or  of  Alex- 
andria might  still  claim  independence,  but  the  Bishop  of 
Rome  spoke  from  the  capital  of  the  Emi)ire,  and  he  already 
represented  a  larger  number  of  Christians  than  belonged 
to  any  other  diocese.  The  rapid  increase  in  the  member- 
ship of  the  Roman  Church  required  a  strong  organization ; 
and  whereas  in  early  days  each  community  had  chosen  its 
minister,  the  power  to  elect  now  passed  out  of  the  hands 
of  the  congregation  and  was  usurped  by  the  priests,  who 
elected  their  superiors,  and  these  in  their  turn  elected  the 


ROMAN    AND    BARBARIAN.  13 

Bishop  of  Rome.  Then  sprang  up  a  sacerdotal  clan,  which 
arrogated  to  itself  complete  jurisdiction  over  the  govern- 
ment and  tenets  of  the  church.  A  chasm  as  wide  as  that 
which  separates  the  pariah  from  the  brahmin  sei)arated 
priest  from  layman  in  this  liierarchical  system  modeled 
upon  Roman  imperialism. 

When  the  Empire  was  divided  by  the  establishment  of 
a  second  capital  at  Byzantium,  the  authority  of  the  Pope 
over  Italy  and  Western  Europe  was  naturally  extended, 
and  when  the  Western  Empire  fell  asunder,  it  was  ecpiaUy 
natural  that  the  people  of  Rome  and  its  neighborhood 
should  rally  to  the  spiritual  head  of  Rome  for  that  protec- 
tion which  the  civil  government  could  no  longer  give.  Kxen 
the  barbarians  respected  him,  and  as  they  settled  on  Italian 
soil  and  became  Christians,  they  turned  to  him  as  their  re- 
ligious arbiter  and  guide.  Nominally,  the  enn)eror  at  Con- 
stantinople protected  the  church  at  Rome,  but  actually  the 
Romans  in  those  grievous  days  had  to  protect  themselves, 
whether  by  propitiating  tlie  temporary  concpieror  or  by 
striving  to  resist  him.  Among  the  incessant  tumults  and 
changes,  nothing  was  stable,  nothing  permanent,  except 
the  rule  of  the  Pope.  His  spiritual  authority,  transmitted 
from  successor  to  successor,  could  not  be  affected  by  tem- 
poral vicissitudes.  The  man  might  be  driven  from  Rome, 
but  the  office  embodied  in  hiui  was  beyond  the  liazard  of 
his  personal  fortunes.  Privileges  and  property  once  ixc- 
quired  by  or  becpxeathed  to  the  clmrch  did  not  lai)sc.  for 
the  church  was  perpetual. 

From  the  fifth  to  the  eighth  centuTy,  the  Bisliops  of 
Rome  established  their  spiritual  su])r('nia('y  in  Italy.  Kvcn 
the  Iconoclastic  Controversy  in  which  they  engaged  with 
the  Eastern  Church  endiul  in  strengthening  them.  The 
Greek  Christians  were  the  more  specuhitive  and  inystieal : 
was  it  not  natural  tliat  the  religion  of  a  land  wheic  the 
language  and  literatui-e  of  the  i-aee  which  had  excelieil  in 
philosophy  still   flourished   should    be  clothed   ujion   with 


14  THE    DAWN    OF   ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

philosophical  wraps  ?  The  Latins,  on  the  contrary,  had 
produced  no  philosopher  ;  they  were  logical  and  practical, 
caring  more  for  things  than  for  thoughts  ;  they  knew  the 
value  of  visible  images  and  symbols  in  helping  dull  imagi- 
nations to  perceive  religious  dogmas.  The  Popes  who 
refused  to  prohibit  the  use  of  idols  acted  in  harmony  with 
the  genius  of  the  Latin  people,  and  they  lightened  the  task 
of  converting  the  heathen  natives  of  Western  Europe  to 
Christianity.  A  missionary  who  could  show  an  image  of 
St.  Peter  or  of  Christ  to  the  Teutonic  barbarian  was  much 
more  likely  to  be  understood  than  another  who  labored 
with  words  to  make  abstractions  plain. 

This  assertion  of  independence  not  only  enhanced  the 
prestige  of  the  Roman  bishop,  but  also  fixed  upon  tlie 
Roman  Church  that  reverence  for  symbols  which,  exag- 
gerated at  later  periods,  became  the  substitutes  for  inner 
spiritual  devoutness.  But  the  Popes  soon  had  to  cope 
with  nearer  and  more  dangerous  enemies  than  the  Byzan- 
tine emperor.  They  were  hard  bestead  by  the  Lombards, 
those  long-bearded  warriors  who  conquered  Northern  Italy 
in  the  sixth  century,  and  spreading  southward  to  Spoleto 
and  Benevento  menaced  the  patrimony  of  St.  Peter  it- 
self. There  being  no  champion  for  him  in  Italy,  the  Pope 
sought  succor  across  the  Alps  of  Charles  M  artel,  king  in 
all  but  name  of  the  Prankish  nation.  Before  Charles 
could  descend  into  Lombardy  and  punish  the  tormentors 
of  the  Pope,  he  died.  His  son,  Pepin  the  Short,  succeeded 
him ;  deposed  Childeric  III,  last  of  the  do-nothing  kings 
of  the  Merovingian  line  (752)  ;  was  cro^vned  by  the  Arch- 
bishop of  Mayence,  the  Pope's  representative ;  and  ere- 
long he  compelled  the  Lombards  to  submit.  Tliis  league 
of  amity  between  the  Popes  and  the  Caroliugians  is  the 
most  important  fact  in  the  history  of  that  age.  It  con- 
firmed the  papal  power  in  Italy  ;  it  established  the  prece- 
dent that  the  Pope's  sanction  of  a  monarch  beyond  the 
Alps  was,  if   not  absolutely  indispensable,  a  source   of 


ROMAN    AND    BARBARIAN.  15 

strength  and  dignity ;  it  showed  that  the  influence  of  the 
Byzantine  emperors  over  the  affairs  of  Western  Europe 
was  virtually  dead ;  it  fixed  Roman  Christianity,  to  the 
exclusion  of  Arianism,  on  the  west.  Ambition  would 
doubtless  have  been  a  suiificient  motive  for  urging  the 
Frankish  kings  to  subdue  the  Lombards ;  but  this  league, 
by  making  them  the  champions  and  defenders  of  the  Ko- 
man  Church,  gave  to  their  ambition  a  holier  aspect,  and 
thenceforward  the  spread  of  Christianity  coincided  with 
the  extension  of  their  dominion  over  the  barbaric  tribes. 


CHAPTER  II. 

CHARLEMAIN   AND   THE   SPELL   OF   ROME. 

Pepin  was  followed  by  his  greater  son  Charlemain,  who, 
as  we  have  seen,  brought  Central  and  Western  Europe 
under  his  sway  and  organized  Feudalism  as  an  imperial 
system.  His  genius,  his  methods,  his  traditions  were  Teu- 
tonic, but  these  did  not  prevent  him  from  feeling  the  spell 
of  an  influence  which  had  begun  to  fascinate  the  imagina- 
tions of  men  long  before  Teuton  or  Hun  had  emerged  from 
primitive  savagery.  "  What 's  in  a  name  ?  "  exclaimed 
the  lovesick  heroine  of  Verona.  "  Everything  !  "  experi- 
ence might  have  replied  to  her ;  for  "  the  generality  of 
mankind  is  wholly  and  absolutely  governed  by  words  and 
names,  without  —  nay,  for  the  most  part,  even  against  — 
the  knowledge  men  have  of  things."  ^  The  name  which 
captivated  Charlemain,  which  dazzled  the  world  for  well- 
nigh  two  thousand  years,  —  from  the  fifth  century  before 
to  the  fifteenth  century  after  Christ,  —  was  Rome.  Among 
all  the  names  uttered  by  men,  only  one  other  has  been 
more  potent. 

Roma  !  There  is  the  history  of  our  Western  races  in 
these  four  letters.  The  stories  of  Greece  and  Palestine, 
of  Carthage  and  Egypt,  are  as  rivers  which  flow  dovm 
from  remote  regions  into  a  great  lake  called  Home.  An- 
tiquity is  a  vast  ravine,  from  one  side  of  which  to  the  other 
reverberates  the  magic  word  Rome.  A  hundred  and  sixty 
years  before  the  Christian  era,  the  fame  of  the  Romans 
was  sounding  througli  all  the  lands  then  kno^\•T^.  Tribes 
which  had  never  seen  them  knew  that  '^  they  were  mighty 
^  Robert  South,  A  Sermon  preached  May  9,  IGSG. 


CHAKLEMAIN    AND    THE    SPELL    OF    KOMK.  17 

and  valiant  men."  Judas  Maccabaeus,  the  last  hero  of 
Jewish  independence,  bade  his  countrymen  in  their  dis- 
tress to  seek  tlie  friendship  of  that  invuhierable  people 
who  had  their  citadel  on  the  distant  Tiber.  lie  related 
how  "  they  destroyed  and  brought  under  their  dominion 
all  other  kingdoms  and  isles  that  at  any  time  resisted  them, 
but  with  their  friends  and  such  as  relied  upon  them  they 
kept  amity  ;  and  that  they  had  conquered  kingdoms  both 
far  and  nigh,  insomuch  as  all  that  heard  of  their  name 
were  afraid  of  them  ;  also  that,  whom  they  would  help 
to  a  kingdom,  those  reign  ;  and  whom  again  they  would, 
they  displace  ;  finally,  that  they  were  greatly  exalted  ;  yet 
for  all  this  none  of  them  wore  a  cro\vn,  or  was  clothed  in 
purple  to  be  magnified."  ^  Thereafter,  during  more  than 
four  hundred  years,  victory  upon  victory,  advance  upon 
advance,  added  significance  and  lustre  to  the  name  of 
Rome,  until  the  Pict  among  the  chilly  mists  of  Shetland, 
and  the  Hindoo  in  the  jungles  of  Bengal,  had  seen  the 
flash  of  Roman  breast])lates ;  and  tlie  nomads  of  Yemen 
and  Sahara  knew  that  far  away  in  the  centre  of  the  world 
there  was  a  nation  invincible  and  terrible,  whose  arm  was 
long  and  whose  grasp  was  firm.  This  wonderful  nation 
had  taken  up  the  gate-posts  of  civilization  and  set  them 
down  many  hundred  leagues  ahead.  Kingdoms  which  had 
sufficed  for  the  ambition  of  Darius  or  the  Ptolemies  were 
mere  segments  in  the  great  circle  wliich  Koine  described 
upon  three  continents.  The  em])ire  of  Alexander  was  but 
a  ])r()vince  :  the  realm  of  Hannibal  was  but  a  ])r()e()nsulate. 
Rivers  and  mountains  were  no  barriers  to  hei- :  over  those 
leaped  her  bridges,  over  these  wound  her  highways.  She 
])enetrated  forests  and  left  them  eornfields  behind  her. 
Her  ships  rode  su])renu»  in  every  ])<)rt.  It  s<'eined  that 
genius  tlirough  all  the  past  had  been  nneonseionsly  work- 
ing for  her  embellishment;  that  the  Athenian  sculptors 
had  wrought  statues  to  adorn   lier  jjalaces,  ami  that  The- 

1    1  M:ucal..-cH.  viii.  II- 1-1. 


18  THE   DAWN    OF   ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

ban  Pharaohs  had  hewn  obelisks  to   commemorate  her 
triumphs. 

Think  of  the  thirty  generations  which  went  into  the 
augmenting  of  that  power  which  we  sum  up  in  the  single 
word  Home  !  Think  of  the  reputations,  each  a  splendid 
star,  whose  several  brightness  was  merged  into  the  bright- 
ness of  his  fellows,  to  compose  that  galaxy  which  spread  over 
a  large  part  of  the  firmament  of  history,  and  will  excite  the 
wonder  of  mankind  forever.  Regulus  and  Collatinus,  the 
Scipios  and  the  Gracchi,  Marius  and  Sulla,  Cato  and  Ci- 
cero, Caesar  and  Pompey,  Augustus  and  Hadrian,  Trajan, 
Agricola  and  Aurelius,  —  these  are  but  a  few  whose  mag- 
nitude we  have  measured  and  named.  But  in  the  sound 
of  that  word  Rome  there  is  also  the  tramp  of  a  thousand 
legions,  there  is  the  din  of  countless  victories,  there  are 
the  commands  of  dauntless  forgotten  generals  and  the  de- 
crees of  innumerable  lawgivers.  No  single  genius  lifted 
the  fame  of  Rome  to  the  stars,  but  the  valor  and  energy 
and  patience  of  a  whole  people,  the  concerted  effort  of 
nameless  multitudes,  who  were  not  impelled  by  a  sudden 
frenzy  of  conquest  nor  disheartened  by  a  lost  campaign, 
but  who  advanced  slowly,  steadily,  rhythmically,  as  with 
the  step  of  Fate.  Rome  conquered  because  she  was  strong  ; 
and  she  drew  her  strength  from  the  integrity  and  patriot- 
ism of  her  sons  during  many  successive  generations.  So 
strong  was  she  that  even  her  decline  bore  witness  to  her 
deep-rooted  grandeur.  Alexander,  Napoleon,  ceased  to 
be,  and  their  empire  was  as  if  they  had  never  been ;  but 
Rome  in  her  dissolution  threatened  the  ruin  of  the  world. 
Gi'adually,  through  four  hundred  years,  luxury  and  vice 
stole  vigor  from  her  body  and  resoluteness  from  her  soul, 
yet  men  still  believed  that  she  could  not  die  ;  and  she  had 
lain  dead  in  her  palace  already  for  a  long  season  ere  the 
barbarians  dared  to  enter  and  look  upon  her  coi-pse.^ 

^  The  real  fall  of  Rome  was  in  A.  D.  o97,  when  Theodosius  died.    Alaric, 
the  first  invader  who  had  entered  the  city  since  Brennus,  just  eight  hundred 


CHARLEMAIN    AND   THE   SPELL    OF    ROME.  19 

But  even  death  could  not  destroy  the  magic  of  the  name 
of  Rome.  Fre^d  from  the  limitations  of  fact,  it  lived  as 
a  disembodied  spirit  with  an  immortal  existence  which 
could  not  be  assailed  by  the  shock  of  mortal  change.  It 
had  now,  like  a  Miltonic  archangel,  that  attribute  of  vague- 
ness through  which  conceptions  too  vast  for  precise  state- 
ment loom  terrible  or  sublime.  The  visible  empire  still 
survived  at  Constantinople,  but  how  weak  and  narrow  it 
was  compared  with  that  idea  of  empire  in  which  all  that 
Rome  had  been  was  expressed  I  The  degenerate  Romans, 
and  the  barbarians  who  settled  among  them,  alike  deemed 
that  idea  to  be  a  part  of  the  universal  order,  just  as  the 
sun  and  seasons  were  ;  even  though  now  invisible,  they 
thought  that  it  still  held  mankind  together.  The  northern 
savages  showed  their  reverence  for  it  by  the  eagerness 
with  which  they  sought  to  legitimize  their  concjuests  by 
obtaining  for  thianselves  the  title  of  Roman  Patrician ; 
but  they  did  not  yet  dare  to  assume  the  title  of  p]m})eror, 
although  had  one  of  them  —  Odoacer,  for  instance  —  done 
so,  he  could  hardly  have  been  prevented. 

In  the  ears  of  Charlemain,  however,  that  name  Roma 
was  continually  resounding,  and  before  his  mind's  eye  that 
ideal  of  empire  kept  passing,  vivid  and  seductive.  He 
was  more  than  king,  for  he  had  many  kings  to  his  vassals  ; 
he  had  reduced  under  his  sway  a  large  ])art  of  wliat  had 
been  the  Roman  Empire,  and  had  established  tliercin  a 
uniform,  stern  government.  He  was,  morcovei-,  the  cliam- 
pion  of  the  religion  which,  spreading  from  Rome,  was  fast 
converting  the  West.  All  that  lie  needed  was  the  ])restige 
of  that  title  with  which  were  assoeiatt'd  the  highest  reach 
of  human  ])()wer  and  the  maintenance  of  eivilization  itself. 
And  when  tlu;  Po])e,  rei)resenting  the  citizens  of  Rome, 
declared  that  the  legitimate  line  of  Kastein  emperors  liad 
la})sed    throngh    the    crimes  of    Ii'cne,   a    woman   who    had 

years  before,  sacked  Konie  in   110.     Kurmilus  Au(;:iistiiliiH.  tlii>  Lust  |)li.iiiti)iu 
emperor,  was  deposed  by  Odoacer  in  47'!. 


20  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

usurped  the  Byzantine  throne,  and  that  the  Romans,  exer- 
cising their  ancestral  right  to  elect  an  emperor,  had  chosen 
Charlemain,  the  ambition  of  the  Prankish  conqueror  was 
realized.  Just  what  motives  led  to  this  epoch-making  act 
we  cannot  say.  The  Pope  may  have  been  moved  by  grati- 
tude for  a  monarch  by  whom  he  had  been  succored  ;  he 
may  have  hoped  to  secure  good-will  and  protection  for 
the  future  ;  he  may  have  wished  to  assert  in  this  decisive 
fashion  the  independence  of  the  Western  Church  from 
the  nominal  dictation  of  the  Eastern  emperors  ;  or  he  may 
have  merely  intended  to  acknowledge  that  one  who  de- 
served the  title  of  emperor  should  wear  it.  Certainly,  had 
Charlemain  commanded,  nobody  could  have  resisted  him. 
The  most  natural  reasons  are  probably  nearest  the  truth. 
In  after  times,  when  history  was  rewritten  by  papal  par- 
tisans, who,  disregarding  fact  and  unabashed  by  anachro- 
nisms, assigned  purposes  retrospectively,  so  as  to  give  pre- 
sent issues  the  semblance  of  past  authority,  they  claimed 
that  Charlemain  derived  his  imperial  rights  from  the  Pope, 
and  that  the  emperors  were  therefore  subordinate  to  the 
Popes.  But  we  may  well  doubt  whether  Charlemain  would 
have  admitted  or  Stephen  have  pressed  this  claim  on  that 
Christmas  day,  a.  d.  800,  when  the  pontiff,  rising  in  the 
basilica  of  St.  Peter's,  "  advanced  to  where  Charles,  who 
had  exchanged  his  simple  Prankish  dress  for  the  sandals 
and  the  chlamys  of  a  Roman  patrician,  knelt  in  prayer  by 
the  high  altar,  and  as,  in  the  sight  of  all,  he  placed  upon 
the  brow  of  the  barbarian  chieftain  the  diadem  of  the 
Caesars,  then  bent  in  obeisance  before  him,  the  church 
rang  to  the  shouts  of  the  multitude,  again  free,  again  the 
lords  and  centre  of  the  world,  '  Karolo  Augufdo  a  Deo 
coronato  tnagno  et  pacijico  imperatori  vita  et  victoria.'  "  ^ 
The  consequences  of  this  act  have  not  yet  ceased  to  be 
felt.  Its  immediate  effect  was  to  confirm  and  extend  the 
power  of  the  Pope.  The  Roman  form  of  Christianity 
^  Bryce,  Holy  Roman  Empire,  p.  49. 


CHARLEMAIN    AND   THE   SPELL   OF    ROME.  21 

became  thenceforth  established  as  the  State  religion  of  the 
West,  and  t\m  Konian  Church  had  the  aid  of  the  secular 
rider  in  stami)ing  out  heresy  and  in  pushing  its  missions 
heathenwards.  The  Emperor  gained  on  his  side  whatever 
advantage  imagination  and  tradition  attached  to  his  title  ; 
he  gained  also  in  being  the  official  champion  of  the 
Church.  His  wars  of  conquest  might  now  be  defended 
by  the  plea  of  religious  zeal,  and  he  might  strengthen  his 
administration  by  persuading  the  Pope  to  punish  with 
spiritual  instruments  the  refractory  subjects  who  would 
not  obey  the  imperial  command. 

This  partnership  on  equal  terms  between  Church  and 
State  was  very  simple  in  theory,  God,  it  was  believed, 
had  intrusted  the  governing  of  mankind  to  two  heads,  one 
of  whom,  the  Pope,  should  direct  the  s})iritual,  while  the 
other,  the  Emperor,  should  direct  the  temporal  affairs  of 
men.  P2ach  should  be  sui)reme  in  his  own  province  ;  but 
since  the  spiritual  and  the  temporal  are  as  closely  allied 
as  body  and  soul,  their  governments  must  be  harmonious, 
one  supplementing  and  propjnng  that  of  the  other.  These 
twin  monarchs  were  equally  necessary  and  equally  venera- 
ble, and  only  in  the  sense  that  the  soul  is  liiglier  than  the 
body  could  the  Pope  be  said  to  be  superior  to  the  Empe- 
ror. God  is  universal  ;  therefore  the  government  wliich 
represents  Ilim  on  earth  must  be  universal.  In  anticpiity 
only  one  nation  succeeded  in  mastering  the  then  known 
world  ;  that  nation  was  the  Roman,  and  the  breadth  and 
power  of  its  empire  prov^ed  that  (lod  onhiined  it  to  be  the 
model  of  civil  government.  Later,  wlien  He  had  revealed 
Ilis  scheme  of  salvation,  lie  (-(Hifided  it  to  the  l\(»nian 
Cluirch  to  ])reserve  and  (lisseniinate.  Since  that  scheme 
a])plied  to  all  men,  the  Churcli  must  be  universal,  eter- 
nal, and  catholic  ;  and  as  thci'c  was  but  one  scheme,  thci'c 
could  l)e  but  one  true  religion  :  the  Koinau  was  thcrciore 
the  sole  guardian  of  orthodoxy. 

Thus,  at   the   beuInninL;-  of  the   ninth   ccnturv.  wc   Hnd 


22  THE   DAWN    OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

society  in  Western  Christendom  constituted  under  two 
strangely  derived  systems,  that  of  Feudalism,  Teutonic  in 
origin  and  nature,  but  now  popularly  supposed  to  be  the 
perpetuator  of  the  Roman  Empire  ;  and  that  of  Chris- 
tianity, a  Hebrew  product,  transformed  through  the  genius 
of  the  Latin  race  into  a  genuine  Roman  institution.  Rome 
had  never  created  a  world-religion.  She  imposed  her  laws, 
but  not  her  creed,  upon  the  tribes  she  overcame.  She  had 
persecuted  the  early  Christians,  not  because  they  held  odd 
doctrines,  but  because  they  denied  the  authority  and  dis- 
turbed the  peace  of  the  Roman  State.  Yet  now,  the  real 
Rome  being  dead,  her  spirit  was  to  circulate  among  man- 
kind in  a  world-religion,  and  the  mere  tradition  of  her 
grandeur  was  to  give  lustre  to  an  empire  utterly  imlike 
her  own.  Marvelous  people  of  the  Tiber,  none  other  that 
ever  trod  the  earth  has  left  upon  it  footprints  so  deep  as 
yours  !  Dead  but  sceptred  kings,  who  from  your  urns 
have  ruled  the  spirits  of  a  long  posterity,  the  might  of 
your  genius  shall  be  active  among  men  until  the  last 
Romish  priest  shall  have  said  his  last  mass,  and  the  last 
candle  shall  flicker  on  the  altar. 


CHAPTER  III. 

DEVELOPMENT   OF   STATE   AND   CHURCH. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  ninth  century,  therefore,  West- 
ern Europe  has  issued  from  chaos,  and  feels  the  need  and 
benefit  of  a  dual  restraint.  It  looks  up  to  a  Roman  Pope 
and  a  German-Roman  Emperor.  There  exists  at  Constan- 
tinople another  Emperor  calling  himself  Roman,  and  a 
Church  claiming  to  be  Christian  and  catholic  ;  but  the 
Western  Emperor  troubles  himself  little  about  the  former, 
and  the  Pope  brands  the  latter  as  schismatic.  Local  in- 
terests tend  more  and  more  to  separate  the  East  from  the 
West  in  spirit,  and  a  broad  zone  inhabited  by  barbarians 
keeps  them  asimder  in  fact.  European  history,  so  far  as 
it  concerns  us,  is  henceforth  the  history  of  the  West,  and 
if  we  think  of  the  Byzantine  Empire  at  all,  we  think  of  it 
as  sinking  deeper  and  deeper  into  Asiatic  lethargy,  which 
the  terrible  warriors  of  Othman  shall  at  last  plunge  into 
the  sleep  from  which  no  man  wakes.  Of  the  events  in 
Western  Europe  itself  that  belong  to  the  Middle  Age, 
the  epoch  between  Charlemain  and  Dante,  we  can  refer 
to  only  a  few  of  the  most  im])oitant  which  directly  or 
indirectly  moulded  the  destiny  of  Italy. 

Im])eriaHsm  and  Catliolicism,  wliose  C()m])act  liad  been 
so  joyfully  celebrated,  worked  togetlicr  as  allies  but  a 
short  time,  then  their  se])arate  ambitions  and  their  con- 
flicting interests  goaded  tliem  to  internecine  rivalry.  Soon 
after  Charlemain's  death  tlie  empire  was  split  into  tliree 
fragments.  The  western  ))()rtion,  eoniprising  Neusfria 
and  A(juitaine,  —  a  considerable  ])art  of  what  was  later 
France,  —  fell  to  Charles  the  Bald  ;  a   central   stiiit.  run- 


24  THE    DAWN    OF   ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

ning  from  the  North  Sea  to  what  was  anciently  Latium 
and  including  the  two  imperial  capitals,  Aix-la-Chapelle 
and  Rome,  was  given  to  Lothair ;  the  provinces  east  of 
the  Khine  were  the  share  of  Louis,  surnamed  the  German. 
These  three  rulers  were  the  grandsons  of  Charlemain. 
Lothair  had  the  title  of  Emperor  and  of  King  of  Italy. 
And  now  it  was  seen  that  the  feudal  system  could  not,  in 
spite  of  Charlemain's  precautions  and  foresight,  maintain 
a  uniform  government  over  Western  Europe.  Not  only 
did  the  mutual  jealousy  of  the  three  brothers  prevent  them 
from  forming  a  common  union,  but  also  centrifugal  forces 
too  strong  to  be  overcome  had  been  set  in  motion  in  each 
kingdom.  The  great  feudatories,  who  as  dukes,  counts, 
and  marquises,  had  governed  the  outlying  provinces  of 
the  Empire  and  had  been  checked  by  Charlemain,  now, 
under  weaker  sovereigTis,  established  themselves  as  he- 
reditary lords,  and  aspired  to  independence.  The  king, 
whether  in  France  or  in  Germany,  had  a  smaller  territory 
than  that  of  his  great  vassals  ;  he  could  keep  them  obedi- 
ent only  by  keeping  them  disunited.  On  the  whole,  the 
royal  power  expanded  in  France  and  dwindled  in  Ger- 
many ;  and  for  this  reason,  —  the  king  of  the  former  was 
hereditary,  of  the  latter  elective. 

While  the  Capetians  were  slowly  subduing  their  great 
vassals  and  bringing  more  and  more  land  to  the  royal 
domain,  the  German  monarchs  had  to  cope  not  only  with 
refractory  nobles  at  home,  but  also  with  Huns,  Slavs,  and 
Scandinavians  abroad.  The  sceptre  passed  from  family 
to  family  ;  those  who  failed  to  receive  it  by  election  envied 
the  successful  and  resisted  their  efforts  to  ^rect  a  dynasty. 
Perhaps  it  was  still  more  important  that  the  German  king- 
was  also  the  Holy  Roman  Emperor  ;  for  this  union  of  offices 
involved  him  in  difficulties  with  tlie  Pope,  and  it  further 
embarrassed  him  with  the  affairs  of  Italy.  Having  been 
cliosen  by  the  electors,  he  nuist  proceed  to  Milan  to  be 
crowned  with  the  Iron  Crown  of  the  Lombard  kings,  and 


DEVELOPMENT   OF   STATE    AND   CHUKCII.  25 

thence  to  Rome  to  be  anointed  Emperor  by  the  Pope. 
Time  wrought *^  swift  changes  in  the  land  south  of  the 
Alps.  New  States  grew  up,  each  craving  independence, 
and  the  interval  between  one  imperial  visit  and  the  next 
being  often  long,  tlie  Italians  began  to  lose  respect  for  the 
nominal  suzerainty  of  their  foreign  Emperor.  But  the 
spell  of  Italy  had  a  fatal  fascination  for  those  German 
kings.  They  pursued  the  southward-flying  jihantom,  leav- 
ing in  the  Alpine  passes  and  on  the  Italian  plains  the 
withered  flower  of  their  armies.  That  wiU-o'-the-wisp 
enticed  them  on  and  on,  but  always  settled  at  last  over  a 
graveyard. 

What  was  the  magic  by  which  Power  —  the  reality 
they  pursued  —  eluded  them?  Italy  seemed  to  flourish 
in  spite  of  internal  discord  ;  proud  cities  and  fertile  i)lan- 
tations  covered  the  peninsvda,  and  the  Italians  who  en- 
joyed them  were  merchants  and  prelates  rather  than  war- 
riors. Yet  when  the  Emperor  came  to  demand  them  as 
his  due,  they  slipped  from  his  grasp.  The  oily  state-craft 
of  the  Italians  countervailed  the  slow  force  of  the  Ger- 
mans ;  the  SHbtle  sunshine  of  the  South  bred  a  i)estilence 
more  deadly  than  an  armored  foe,  and  whom  pestilence 
spared,  voluptuousness  dispatched.  Ilannihal,  too,  had 
found  the  ease  of  Capua  more  formidable  than  Sci})io's 
legions  at  Cannge.  Nevertheless,  though  baffled  time  after 
time  and  undone,  the  German  kings  ]iersiste(l  in  their 
hopeless  task;  when  the  vision  of  Italy  hovered  before 
them,  like  men  in  whom  the  desire  for  strong  drink  re- 
turns too  tempting  to  be  controlled,  tliey  gave  u]>  all  for 
that.  Triumphs  they  had,  indeed,  but  they  were  tem- 
porary trium])hs  ;  for  while  the  (lernian  sovereign  was 
making  or  deposing  Po])es,  and  forcing  the  Italians  to  tlo 
him  homage,  his  restless  vassals  anil  i-neniies  at  honu' 
seized  the  occasion  of  his  absence  to  sow  '('(lit ion  nr  to 
hasten  attack.      The  league  hetween   the    l^nipiie   and  the 


26  THE   DAWN   OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

Church   inevitably  brought   blight   and   disaster   to   the 
Empire.^ 

The  power  which  circumvented  the  Emperors  in  Italy, 
the  power  with  which  southern  sunshine  and  voluptuous- 
ness seemed  to  connive,  was  the  Papacy,  the  most  adroit, 
the  most  plausible  institution  which  has  ever  influenced 
for  ages  together  the  fortunes  of  men.  In  its  effects  ma- 
terial, in  its  essence  intangible,  the  Church  of  Rome  for- 
feited the  high  prerogative  of  spirituality  and  preferred 
worldliness,  from  the  day  when  a  Pope  first  thrust  himself 
into  competition  with  temporal  rulers.  "  Where  your 
treasure  is,  there  will  your  heart  be  also,"  is  Christ's 
warning  ;  the  treasure  which,  for  a  thousand  years  past, 
the  Popes  have  coveted  and  hoarded  has  been  of  the  earth, 
and  here  have  been  their  hearts.  "  No  man  can  serve 
two  masters :  for  either  he  will  hate  the  one  and  love  the 
other,  or  else  he  will  hold  to  the  one  and  despise  the 
other.  Ye  cannot  serve  God  and  Mammon."  ^  During 
more  than  a  millennium  the  Papacy  has  been  engaged  in 
reconciling  its  service  of  two  masters  ;  while  raising  one 
hand  in  the  worship  of  God,  it  has  stretched  foi'th  the 
other  to  catch  the  bounty  of  Mammon,  and  in  this  conflict 
of  allegiance,  its  zeal,  except  at  rare  intervals,  has  been 
on  the  side  of  God's  adversary.  But  the  purpose  of  the 
historian  is  not  merely  to  pass  verdicts  on  creeds  and 
systems  ;  it  is  rather  to  study  the  conditions  amid  which 
these  rose  and  flourished,  in  order  the  better  to  under- 
stand that  elemental  human  nature  from  which  all  reli- 
gions and  polities  spring,  and  to  furnish  examples  for  the 
instruction  of  our  own  and  after  times.  Little  will  it  profit 
us  if  we  imagine  that  Feudalism  or  Papalism,  which  to-day 
we  have  reason  to  condemn,  was  never  useful.  For  better 
or  for  worse,  these  and  all  other  systems  were  once  the  best, 

^  Four  emperors  died  in  Italy  :   two  others  just  after  tliey  had  recrossed 
the  Alps. 

■■^  Matthew,  vi,  24. 


DEVELOPMENT  OF   STATE   AND   CHURCH.  27 

and  by  their  scope  and  effects  we  can  measure  the  period 
in  which  they  were  the  best.  We  may  prefer  June  to 
December,  but  December  also  has  its  bleak  chapter  in  the 
chronicle  of  the  year. 

The  expansion  of  the  Roman  Church  into  the  Roman 
Papacy  was  as  natural  as  the  expansion  of  the  bishopric  of 
Rome  into  the  spiritual  dictatorship  of  Western  Christen- 
dom. The  Church  early  acquired  property  in  and  near  the 
Holy  City,  and  wherever  a  monastery  was  founded  it  owned 
and  tilled  land.  Princes  made  propitiatory  gifts  ;  the  faith- 
ful bequeathed  money  and  estates.  Charlemain  exacted 
the  payment  of  tithes  to  the  priesthood,  and  in  other  ways 
fostered  the  institution  of  which  he  was  proud  to  call 
himself  the  defender.  The  Popes  soon  exercisetl  a  moral 
influence  in  temporal  concerns  ;  they  settled  quarrels  be- 
tween rival  claimants,  and  their  sanction  often  outweighed 
military  force.  It  was  of  course  inevitable  that  their  de- 
cision should  be  biased  by  their  interests,  that  they  should 
sincerely  favor  those  who  favored  the  Church.  In  theory 
the  Empire  was  universal,  coextensive  with  the  Church,  but 
its  early  partition,  leaving  the  Emperor  suzerain  of  but  a 
portion  of  Charlemain's  realm,  created  local  and  mutually 
hostile  interests,  while  the  Church  remained  unchanged, 
and  had  everywhere  the  same  work  to  acconi])lish.  It 
was  a  corporation  with  a  perpetual  charter,  and  it  guarded 
its  temporal  possessions  with  a  spiritual  authority  which 
even  violent  men  in  lawless  times  rarely  dared  to  attack. 
And  since  the  German  king  must  be  consecrated  by  tlie 
Pope  before  he  could  legally  bear  the  title  of  Holy  Ro- 
man Em])eror,  the  idea  of  equality  soon  gave  i)l:iee  to  the 
assumption  that  the  I]mi)eror  was  infeiior  to  tlie  Poi)e  ; 
and  lesser  kings  sometimes  acknowledged  their  inierioiity 
by  receiving  tlieir  crowns  from  the  Roman  legate.  A 
strong  Eui])eror  might  deny  the  assumptions  of  the  Pope. 
and  might  make  good  liis  own  sujjremaey.  but  his  strength 
died  with  him;  whereas  the  Romisli  powei-  had  a  eontinu- 


28  THE   DAWN   OF   ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

ous  life.  The  great  ecclesiastics  —  the  archbishops,  bishops, 
and  abbots  —  were  both  temporal  and  spiritual  lords. 
Their  clerical  office  or  benefice  was  bestowed  by  the  Pope ; 
to  the  Emperor  they  did  homage  for  their  secidar  posses- 
sions ;  but  in  their  allegiance  they  were  clerics  who  labored 
at  all  times  to  magnify  the  Church.  In  acquiring,  they 
were  indifferently  ecclesiastics  or  laymen ;  in  holding, 
they  were  always  ecclesiastics.  If  the  secular  sovereign 
arraigned  them  as  vassals,  they  took  refuge  behind  their 
inviolability  as  churchmen.  Moreover,  being  often  for- 
eigners sent  from  Rome  to  promote  Rome's  interests,  their 
resistance  to  the  temporal  sovereign  was  all  the  more  bit- 
ter, in  case  of  conflict  between  him  and  the  Pojje. 

Evidently,  the  dual  control  as  planned  by  Charlemain 
and  Stephen  worked  unequally.  Feudalism,  on  which  the 
integrity  of  the  empire  was  staked,  proved  too  weak  to 
bind  the  members  together  subordinate  to  one  head ; 
whereas  the  organization  of  the  Roman  Church  spread 
in  all  directions,  yet  at  the  farthest  point  it  was  firmly 
connected  with  the  centre.  The  chief  instrument  in  solidi- 
fying the  Church  was  the  celibacy  of  the  clergy.  Whether 
priest  or  friar,  the  churchman  was  forbidden  to  marry ; 
freed,  therefore,  from  the  ties  of  home  and  the  distrac- 
tions and  ambitions  of  family,  he  could  devote  his  zeal 
whoUy  to  the  Church.  Whatever  his  nationality  by  birth, 
he  became  by  ordination  a  citizen  of  spiritual  Rome.  He 
eschewed  his  native  tongue  and  adopted  Latin,  the  lan- 
guage of  the  Church.  His  allegiance  to  a  temporal  prince 
he  exchanged  for  obedience,  utter  and  unquestioning,  to 
the  Pope.  And  when  you  multiply  this  churchman  by 
thousands,  and  multiply  those  thousands  by  hundreds,  you 
can  estimate  the  vast  army  of  clerical  soldiers,  all  inspired 
by  the  same  purpose  and  drilled  in  the  same  tactics,  that 
made  it  possible  for  the  Roman  liierarchy  to  set  up  and 
maintain  its  supremacy  in  every  country  of  Western  Eu- 
rope.    Thanks  to  that  rule  of  celibacy,  Romanism  kept 


DEVELOPMENT    OF    STATE    AND   CHLKCH.  29 

its  uniformity  during  the  Middle  Age,  wliile  Christendom 
was  gradually  Joreaking  up,  through  the  ambition  of  dy- 
nasties and  development  of  nationalities,  into  separate 
States.  Had  it  not  been  for  a  celibate  clergy,  Britain 
and  France  and  Germany  might  each  have  had  its  na- 
tional church,  with  its  native  head  and  clergy,  indepen- 
dent of  the  Pope  at  Rome,  whose  jurisdiction  would  have 
been  confined  to  Italy. 

This  monstrous  rule,  whose  influence  on  the  politics 
and  morals  of  Christendom  cannot  be  overestimated,  must 
not  be  passed  by  with  a  mere  allusion,  although  this  is 
not  the  place  in  which  to  do  more  than  indicate  its  effects. 
Wherever  you  lay  your  finger  on  the  degeneracy  of  Italian 
character,  there  you  will  find  evidence  of  the  pernicious- 
ness  of  sacerdotal  celibacy  which  the  Roman  Church 
adopted  and  still  makes  compulsory.  It  came  into  Eu- 
rope from  the  far  East  in  the  days  of  the  early  Christians. 
Asceticism  commended  itself  to  men  who  believed  the 
world  of  Matter  to  be  the  creation  and  province  of  Satan, 
as  the  world  of  Spirit  was  of  God,  and  that  Satan  was 
sleeplessly  busy  in  devising  lures  to  entice  souls  into  his 
power.  To  resist  Satan  by  renouncing  the  material  workl 
became,  therefore,  the  aim  of  the  early  Christians  ;  and 
how  could  they  show  their  devotion  to  Christ  more  ])lainly 
tlian  by  denying  that  instinct,  which  is,  next  to  sclf-]irescr- 
vation,  the  strongest  and  connnoncst  of  the  natnral  pas- 
sions? The  zealot  who  succeeded  in  mortifying  the  flesh 
might  well  feel  himself  secure  against  the  other  wiles  of 
the  fiend.  A  fashion  of  asceticism  as  intemperate  as  licen- 
tiousness took  possession  of  the  Chnreli :  and  ])resently 
whoever  aspired  to  the  repntation  of  devoutness  nuist 
conform  to  the  practice  of  the  most  fanatical.  If  a  cler- 
gyman marrii'd,  it  was  taken  as  ])r()of  that  he  had  not  eon- 
cpiered  his  animal  nature:  that  he  was  not  sati^li«'(l  witli 
a  spiritual  bi'ide,  tlie  Church,  and  with  spiritual  ehilth-en, 
his  parishioners.      So  extravagant  was  the  delusion,  that 


30  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

worthy  fathers  feared  lest  everybody,  clericals  and  laymen 
alike,  would  adopt  celibacy  and  thus  cut  off  the  race  ;  but 
Jerome,  one  of  the  fiercest  advocates  of  the  practice,  dis- 
pelled their  fears  by  pointing  out  that  virginity  is  a  most 
difficult  state  to  preserve,  and  that  there  would  always  be 
enough  backsliders  to  people  the  eartli.^  And  in  truth 
many  of  the  brethren  and  sisters  married  and  bred  chil- 
dren ;  but  while  their  weakness  was  condoned,  it  was  still 
deemed  a  weakness.  Christ  had  never  married ;  therefore, 
it  was  urged,  he  held  celibacy  to  be  the  higher  state. 

In  this  way,  many  causes  contributed  to  convert  what 
had  been  voluntary  self-denial  into  a  rigid  law  which 
churchmen  must  obey  and  laymen  would  strive  to  obey. 
Men  whose  pure  lives  excluded  the  suspicion  that  they 
pleaded  from  low  motives  protested  against  this  unnatu- 
ral prohibition.  "  Deprive  the  Church  of  honorable  mar- 
riage," exclaimed  the  austere  St.  Bernard,  "  and  you  fill 
her  with  concubinage,  incest,  and  all  manner  of  nameless 
vice  and  uncleanness."  ^  But  the  ascetics  prevailed.  Sacer- 
dotal celibacy  widened  the  gulf  which  already  separated 
clergy  from  laity  ;  and  since  the  monks  had  taken  the  vow 
of  chastity,  pride  forced  the  secular  clergy  to  appear  not 
less  self-renouncing  than  they.  For  generations  together 
they  did  indeed  resist  the  ordinance  and  married ;  but  the 
Popes,  whether  impelled,  as  was  sometimes  the  case,  by  a 
desire  to  reform  the  morals  of  the  Church,  or,  as  was  usu- 
ally the  case,  by  ambition,  persevered,  and  finally  declared 
sacerdotal  celibacy  to  be  the  irrevocable  law.  And  then 
Nature,  who  never  forgets  to  punish  men,  whether  they 
err  through  ignorance  or  by  intent,  took  a  terrible  revenge. 
The  very  rule  l^y  which  misguided  zealots  expected  to  at- 
tain purity,  and  by  which  haughty  ecclesiastics  schemed 
to  lift  themselves  above  laymen,  this  rule  Nature  turned 

^  Ilieron.  ad  Jov.   i,   30.  qiioted    by  H.  C.   Lea,  History  of  Sacerdotal 
Celibaci/  (Plilladelphia,  1884),  p.  624. 
2  Ibid,  331. 


DEVELOPMENT    OF    STATE    AND    CHURCH.  81 

into  an  instrument  of  foulness  and  degradation.  Age 
after  age,  St.  Barnard's  prophecy  has  been  fulfilled. 

In  times  and  countries  that  looked  lightly  on  sexual 
immorality,  ecclesiastics  took  no  pains  to  conceal  their 
profligacy  ;  but  in  more  recent  times,  among  communities 
that  assume  the  virtue  of  purity,  even  though  they  have 
it  not,  clerical  debauch  has  been  less  open.  /SI  non  caste, 
saltern  caute,  is  the  convenient  rule.  Doubtless,  there 
have  always  been  honest  men  and  women  in  the  Church,  for 
no  system  is  so  bad  that  it  can  vitiate  some  temperaments  ; 
but  we  speak  not  of  Francis  and  Theresa,  nor  of  their 
similars,  we  speak  of  the  gi-eat  body  by  whose  conduct 
the  Church  is  judged.  This  is  corroded  by  hypocrisy  ;  and 
hypocrisy  in  the  priest  has  created  easy-going  indifference 
to  virtue  and  skeptical  distrust  of  things  spiritual  in  the 
parish.  Men  who  have  no  faith  in  the  sincerity  and  up- 
rightness of  their  religioviS  guides,  to  whom  nevertheless 
they  attribute  a  mysterious  sanctity  which  does  not  d«?pend 
upon  personal  goodness,  are  apt  to  deem  it  unimportant 
that  they  themselves  be  upright  and  sincere.  And  Nature 
has  indeed  taken  a  terrible  revenge  I  Her  law  to-day  is 
as  inflexible  as  it  was  fifteen  centuries  ago,  when  Jerome 
and  Origen,  in  their  errant  enthusiasm,  thought  that  it  coidd 
be  curbed  or  annulled  by  a  pa})al  decree  :  ignorance  led 
them  astray,  but  the  guilt  of  the  Churcli  has  been  increased 
just  in  pro})ortion  as  experience  has  proved,  generation 
after  generation,  that  their  j)ur]K)se  was  monstrous  and 
unattainable.  As  well  might  the  Pope  stand  on  tlic  brink 
of  Niagara  and  connnand  the  watcis  not  to  fall  as  bid 
Nature  to  withdraw  her  vital  instinct  from  every  man 
who  ])uts  on  the  ])riest's  gown  or  the  monk's  frock. 

Nevertlieless,  this  rule  whicli  sensualizes  the  clei-gy  and 
corru])ts  tlie  laity  —  this  ruh'  which  contiicts  witli  Xatui'e 
and  is  tlie  cause  of  ])atcnt  hypocrisy  —  this  it  was  that 
upheld  the  worldly  sway  of  the  Konian  hieiarcliy  and  fur- 
nished agents   to  build  up  the  edifice  of  the  I*a})acy.      It 


32  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

completed  the  organization  of  that  distinct  clerical  caste 
which  carried  one  language  and  one  policy  into  many  lands ; 
a  caste  of  religious  Janissaries,  of  unattached  bachelors, 
who,  bound  by  no  love  to  mother  or  wife,  were  pledged 
body  and  soul  to  obey  their  pontiff.  And  when  at  last 
there  came  a  Pope  whose  strength  equaled  his  ambition, 
he  fomid  that  army  of  trained  soldiers  ready  to  do  his 
will.  That  Pope  was  Gregory  VII,  popularly  called  Ilil- 
debrand,  the  first  in  time  and  among  the  most  eminent  in 
rank  of  the  men  of  genius  of  the  modern  Italian  race. 
He  conceived  a  system  of  world-government  even  more 
wonderful  than  that  of  Charlemain  and  Stephen ;  for  he 
dreamed  of  replacing  the  joint  control  of  Emperor  and 
Pope  by  a  single  control,  the  Pope's. 

Theocracy  is  the  legitimate  ideal  of  any  Church  which 
pretends  to  be  imiversal  and  infallible.  Granting  that 
men's  soids  must  be  saved,  and  that  God  has  ordained 
one  Church  for  their  salvation,  how  can  she  fulfil  her 
mission  if  the  temporal  government  be  in  the  hands  of  a 
ruler  of  whom  she  does  not  approve,  or  if  the  civil  laws 
be  not  in  harmony  with  her  spiritual  laws  ?  ]Man  has  not 
two  separate  beings  ;  his  acts  in  mundane  affairs  cannot 
be  set  apart ;  and  since  all  his  acts  have  a  moral  signifi- 
cance, all  contribute  to  purify  or  stain  his  soid.  The  State, 
which  regards  only  his  worldly  life,  is  e\'idently  incompe- 
tent, unless  it  be  guided  by  the  Church,  to  lead  that  life 
into  the  path  of  salvation.  The  State,  therefore,  must  be 
the  steward  of  the  Church.  If  any  precedents  were  needed 
they  could  be  quickly  found  ;  did  not  the  Old  Testament 
record  the  dealings  of  God  with  his  chosen  people,  whose 
government  was  theocratic  ?  and  even  among  the  pagan 
Romans,  was  not  the  Emperor  pont'ifex  maximns,  the  nom- 
inal religious  head  of  the  Empire  ?  And  to  the  record  of 
history  the  Roman  hierarchs  had  already  begun  to  add 
the  authority  of  forged  decretals,  and  had  concocted  tradi- 
tions which  an  uncritical  age  easily  mistook  for  genuine. 


DEVELOPMENT    OF    STATE    AND    CHURCH.  33 

Many  things  combined  to  make  Hildebrand's  scheme 
appear  realizable*.  The  Church  had  already  large  posses- 
sions in  Italy,  over  which  she  ruled  as  temporal  sovereign. 
The  creation  of  the  College  of  Cardinals  in  1059  perma- 
nently established  a  small  and  exclusive  aristocracy  in  the 
Church,  and  seemed  to  assure  the  election  of  Popes  who 
would  carry  out  a  uniform  policy.  The  rise  of  several 
independent  kingdoms  over  which  the  Emperor  could  not 
maintain  his  sovereignty  tempted  the  Church  to  usurp 
the  position  of  arbiter  and  peacemaker  among  them.  The 
Emperors  themselves  seemed  to  acknowledge,  in  the  cere- 
mony of  consecration,  that  they  derived  their  authority 
from  the  spiritual  power.  Hildebrand,  quick  to  perceive 
the  opportunity  which  two  centuries  had  slowly  prepared, 
was  quick  to  seize  it.  He  boldly  proclaimed  his  theocratic 
system. 

Thus  rose  the  Papacy,  a  temporal  institution  governed 
by  ecclesiastics,  who  in  their  struggle  for  its  aggrandize- 
ment equipped  themselves  w^ith  wea})ons  spiritual  and 
weapons  material.  At  first  they  hoped  to  bring  all  AVest- 
ern  Europe  under  their  sway,  but  gradually  they  had  to 
content  themselves  with  the  possession  of  a  part  of  Cen- 
tral Italy.  The  Emperors  from  the  outset  resisted  their 
encroachment.  They  refused  to  confirm  bisho})s  whom 
the  Popes  installed  in  German  dioceses  contrary  to  their 
wishes  ;  again  and  again  they  descended  witli  sti'ong  ar- 
mies into  Italy,  to  compel  the  arrogant  ])()ntiff  to  retreat 
into  his  legitimate  posititm.  Many  tlie  ex])C(liti()ns,  long 
the  wars  over  investitures,  varying  the  fortunes  ;  but  on 
the  whole,  the  Poj)es  trimn])hed.  Th(>y  did  not,  indeetl, 
^vin  the  teni])oral  control  over  tlie  northern  kingdoms,  but 
they  retained  their  mastery  over  the  ecclesiastical  organ- 
ization in  them,  and  ])i(n(>nte(l  tlie  foiination  of  national 
churclies.  Hildebrand  kept  Heni-y  IV  l)arefoot  and  shiv- 
ering for  three  days  and  niglits  at  Canossa,  ere  he  would 
allow  him  to  aj)i)ear  in  his  j)rcsencc  and  beg  for  forgive- 


34  THE    DAWN    OF   ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

ness.  Frederick  Barbarossa,  the  most  puissant  monarch 
since  Charlemain,  was  haughty  in  defiance  ;  yet  he  too 
humbled  himself,  and  on  the  steps  of  the  Church  of  St. 
Mark  in  Venice  he  fell  at  the  feet  of  Alexander  III  and 
was  granted  pardon.^  A  strenuous  Emperor  might  depose 
a  hostile  Pope,  but  his  victory  was  only  transient ;  for  the 
Emperors  were  confronted  by  an  invisible  policy,  —  the 
same  yesterday,  to-day,  and  forever,  and  not  to  be  exter- 
minated by  the  displacement  of  whosoever  happened  to 
be  its  temporary  spokesman.  In  every  diocese,  in  every 
parish,  were  the  upholders  of  that  policy,  and  they  could 
not  be  silenced.  On  the  whole,  then,  the  prestige  of  the 
Empire  was  shattered  against  the  invisible  armor  of  Rome, 
but  the  spiritual  influence  of  the  Popes  declined  in  pro- 
portion as  they  rose  to  be  worldly  monarchs.  The  idea 
of  the  Papacy,  shorn  and  discredited,  has  survived  down 
to  the  present  time,  although  there  have  been  but  six  or 
seven  Popes  in  as  many  centuries  with  sufficient  personal 
force  to  realize  in  small  measure,  and  for  a  brief  season, 
the  earth-embracing  dream  of  Hildebrand. 

When  at  length  Western  Christendom  emerged  from 
the  Middle  Age,  what  was  the  condition  of  its  inhabitants  ? 
With  what  power  did  men  battle  with  this  life  ?  With 
what  faith  did  they  apprehend  the  life  to  come  ?  How 
had  a  thousand  years  of  Roman  Christianity  and  half  as 
many  years  of  Feudalism  left  them  ?  There  can  be  no 
doubt,  I  think,  that  the  average  European  of  the  thir- 
teenth century  was  on  a  lower  plane  than  the  Roman  citi- 
zen of  the  second  century  had  been.  He  had  a  smaller 
respect  for  law,  a  duller  sense  of  justice.  He  had  not  yet 
learned  to  curb  his  brutal  passions ;  he  still  relied  upon 

^  In  much  later  times,  Joseph  II  of  Austria  thought  that  he  could 
strengthen  his  empire  by  breaking  free  from  Roman  interference  ;  but  after 
a  few  years  he  surrendered,  and  Austria  has  been  since  then  the  most  ser- 
vile daughter  of  the  Church.  Even  Napoleon,  even  Bismarck,  after  a  high- 
handed resistance,  saw  the  advantage,  if  not  the  need,  of  compromising 
with  the  Vatican. 


DEVELOPMENT   OF   STATE   AND   CHURCH.  35 

physical  strength  as  the  test  of  right  and  the  criterion  of 
honor.  He  wate  cut  off  from  political  activity  ;  he  had 
almost  wholly  lost  touch  with  nature.  His  religion  was 
partly  superstitious,  partly  fanatical,  administered  by  a 
corrupt  or  an  ignorant  priesthood,  who  made  piety  to  con- 
sist in  the  performance  of  certain  stipulated  outward  acts. 
The  Pojjes,  like  the  lioman  Em})erors,  had  arrogated  to 
themselves  a  sort  of  divinity.  The  religious  rites  were, 
to  the  eye  of  Keason,  not  a  whit  less  fantastic  than  the 
sacrifice  of  the  flamens  or  the  auspices  of  the  augurs.  The 
pagan  worship  of  minor  gods  was  perpetuated  in  the 
Catholic  worship  of  saints.  The  subtle,  circular  argu- 
ments of  the  theologians  —  the  speculations  as  to  the 
color  of  God's  beard,  and  as  to  whether  Christ  ascended 
naked  or  clothed  into  Heaven  —  wei-e  sterile  and  foolish 
compared  with  the  spiritual  discussions  of  the  Neo-phito- 
nists  and  the  etliical  precepts  of  the  later  Stoics.  If  the 
Church  restrained  society  at  all,  hers  was  a  restraint  of 
terror.  She  scared  men  with  menaces  of  damnation, 
rather  than  drew  them  to  virtue  by  the  sweet  persuasive- 
ness of  love.  Hell  seemed  so  inevitable  that  it  became 
necessary  to  build  an  antechamber  to  it,  a  Purgatory, 
whence  souls  had  a  chance  to  escape,  in  s])ite  of  their  sin- 
fulness, into  Heaven.  Fear  lies  very  dee])  in  tlie  Imnian 
heart,  so  deep  as  to  be  an  elemental  instinct ;  no  wonder, 
therefore,  that  Romanism  and  Calvinism  —  the  two  forms 
of  Christianity  that  have  l)ound  men  most  firmly  —  clinched 
their  doctrinal  fetters  in  this  instinct  of  fear,  (iod  a  ty- 
rant, religion  a  terror,  —  that  is  the  u])shot  of  media'val 
Christianity.  Neither  ]K)et,  nor  seer,  nor  saint,  has  yet 
drawn  a  ])icture  of  Heaven  tliat  satisli<>s  tlie  soul :  notliing 
better  have  they  foreshadowed  tlian  an  eternity  s])ent  in 
playing  harps,  wearing  crowns,  and  singing  hosannas. 
And,  indeed,  no  prognostic  can  be  drawn  of  cverhisting 
bliss,  because  the  divine  desii-e  of  the  soul  yearns  foi-  in- 
finite expansion  in  ways  which   it  cannot  even    surmise  : 


36  THE   DAWN   OF  ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

whereas  the  outlines  of  the  theologic  vision  are  finite, 
fixed,  monotonous,  —  and  bliss  shuns  limits  and  monot- 
ony. But  of  Hell,  on  the  other  hand,  representations  so 
vivid  have  been  conceived,  that  millions  with  but  a  vajrue 
notion  of  Heaven  have  believed  in  the  reality  of  Hell. 
Hell  is  material  and  physical,  and  since  the  first  man 
scorched  his  fingers  in  fire,  the  dullest  have  understood 
that  a  place  in  which  flames  rage  forever  and  burn  with- 
out destroying  the  whole  body  is  a  place  to  be  avoided. 
By  keeping  this  terror  vividly  present,  the  Roman  Church 
became  and  has  remained  a  dominant  religion,  and  it  was 
in  possessing  this  dread  that  the  medireval  man  differed 
most  widely  from  the  man  of  pagan  Rome. 

In  spite  of  this  deterrent  neither  the  mediaeval  man,  nor 
his  posterity  for  many  generations,  rose  in  many  respects 
above  the  plane  where  natural  passions  have  fiill  sway : 
his  lust,  his  anger,  his  selfishness,  his  pride,  his  cunning, 
were  the  impulses  he  obeyed.  Seldom  can  you  find,  in 
all  the  wars  and  intrigues  which  mahe  up  the  history  of 
a  long  period,  motives  higher  than  those  of  a  well-devel- 
oped animal.  Emerging  from  the  ]\Iiddle  Age,  man  was 
losing  that  religious  enthusiasm  which  expressed  itself 
in  the  building  of  cathedrals  and  in  the  Crusades  ;  his 
creed  which,  so  long  as  it  had  been  unreflectingly  emo- 
tional, had  not  wanted  jucturesqueness,  was  now  poured 
into  the  rigid  matrix  of  theology.  Superstition,  which 
like  the  na'ive  guesses  of  children  had  had  a  certain 
charm,  was  now,  through  the  casuistry  of  sehoohnen's 
loo-ic,  declared  to  be  demonstrable  truth.  Faith  had  be- 
come  a  dogma,  and  worship  was  becoming  a  commercial 
transaction.  The  Church  had  marked  off  a  little  patch  of 
knowledge,  beyond  which  there  was  nothing  to  know  :  in 
that  the  inquirer  might  get  what  fodder  he  could,  although, 
truth  to  tell,  the  grass  had  long  since  been .  nibbled  to  the 
roots.  Or  we  may  picture  him  as  a  caged  squirrel,  whirl- 
ing in  his  wire  wheel  and  never  advancing,  while  just  out- 


DEVELOPMENT    OF    STATE    AND    CHUKCH.  87 

side  is  freedom,  —  the  broad  branches  of  the  pines,  the 
shagbarks  with*  their  nuts,  the  oaks  with  their  acorns.  To 
wonder  why  he  was  content  with  this  confinement,  why 
the  universe  could  not  stir  his  curiosity,  is  to  fail  to  com- 
prehend him  ;  the  mediaeval  man  was  bent  on  getting  to 
heaven,  and  was  taught  that  everything  of  eai-th  would 
delay  his  journey  thither ;  the  Church  knew  the  mystic 
watchword,  the  Open  sesame  which  would  unlock  Peter's 
door ;  to  know  that  rendered  all  other  knowledge  as  un- 
necessary as  would  be  a  whole  dictionary  of  words  to  a 
merchant  who  knew  the  combination  of  letters  which 
unlocks  the  safe  where  his  treasure  is  stored.  The  lay- 
man lacked  even  the  formal  juicoless  training  of  the 
clerics  ;  many  of  the  princes  whose  renown  still  survives 
could  not  write  their  names.  The  earth,  whose  laws  it 
behooves  us  to  study  if  we  would  not  be  crushed  by  them, 
was  still  under  the  ban.  Tlie  Mosaic  fables  and  the  Ptole- 
maic guesses  were  the  only  keys  to  nature's  mysteries. 
Science,  whether  of  experiment  or  observation,  was  not ; 
criticism  was  not ;  because  tradition,  which  acts  on  the 
reason  like  laughing-gas  on  the  brain,  put  the  reason  to 
sleep  and  produced  phantasmagoric  dreaming.  The  curi- 
ous who  pried  into  jjhysical  secirts  were  accused  of  ])rac- 
ticing  the  Black  Art,  because  Satan  alone,  it  was  believed, 
knew  the  mechanism  of  the  })hysieal  world.  Sorcery, 
witchcraft,  ordeals,  alchemy,  astrology,  —  these  are  some 
of  the  rubrics  under  which  i\w  superstitions  of  tliat  age 
might  be  descril)ed.  This  uncritical  state  of  mind  fostered 
the  growth  of  all  sorts  of  ineonginities,  of  miracles  in 
rtdigion,  of  legends  in  history.  The  Church  was  the  sole 
judge  of  truth,  and  she  quashed  any  investigation  tliat 
might  conflict  with  her  assumptions.  Mueli  that  was  fan- 
ciful and  pictures(jue  casts  a  glamour  over  this  straTige 
})eriod,  in  whieii  ronianeers  have  found  tliose  contrasts 
which  surprise  and  charm  the  iuiagiuation  :  liut  it  was. 
nevertheless,  a  period  of  j)assage  wliieli  IxMjueathfd  to  j)os- 


38  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

terity  no  information  in  religion,  polities,  or  sociology,  by 
which  later  men  could  steer  with  profit.  Those  are  the 
great  epochs,  and  those  only,  in  which  Reason,  untram- 
meled  by  arbitrary  tethers,  unprejudiced  by  partisanship 
and  tradition,  looks  Fact  squarely  in  the  eyes  and  dis- 
covers Truth  there ;  and  the  truths  so  discovered  are  of 
imperishable  value  to  mankind. 

It  is  a  law  of  human  progress  that  a  strong  habit  or 
institution  can  be  overcome  only  by  something  stronger. 
On  this  principle  depends  the  conservation  of  society  and 
the  sequence  of  character  ;  for  if  men  and  nations  changed 
suddenly,  either  for  better  or  worse,  life  woiild  be  unstable, 
lawless,  a  thing  of  weather-cocks.  Furthermore,  a  system 
which  may  have  been  the  best  jjossible  in  one  era  —  and 
we  cannot  deny  that  Feudalism  and  Catholicism  were 
such  —  becomes  harmful  and  a  hindrance  when  altered 
conditions  have  suggested  a  system  better  adapted  to  the 
new  needs  and  ideals  of  mankind.  Modern  history  nar- 
rates the  struggle  between  men  bent  on  reorganizing  so- 
ciety according  to  new  ideals,  and  men  who,  satisfied  with 
the  old,  regard  the  new  as  dangerous.  To  the  former, 
change  wears  the  aspect  of  life  and  growth,  to  the  latter 
of  dissolution  and  death. 

The  inventory  of  the  legacies  bequeathed  by  the  Middle 
Age  to  the  modern  world  contains  first  a  Church  claiming 
to  be  catholic  and  infallible.  The  product  of  a  semi-bar- 
barous and  uncritical  age,  —  the  fruit  of  Hebraism  grafted 
on  the  decaying  trunk  of  Roman  Imperialism,  —  she  pre- 
served the  dogmas  and  discipline  which  enabled  her  to 
overcome  m}i;h-beguiled  and  violent  barbarians.  After 
the  fourth  century,  when  the  old  Roman  civilization  dis- 
solved and  the  very  existence  of  social  order  was  imper- 
iled, this  Church  tamed  the  hordes  which  repeopled  Eu- 
rope and  diffused  principles  of  unity  among  them.  These 
conditions  no  longer  exist.  Reason  and  not  Authority  is 
now  the  rule  by  which,  in  theory  at  least,  men  govern  their 


DEVKLOPMENT    OF    STATE   AND   CHURCH.  39 

affairs ;  but  in  the  course  of  this  history  we  shall  see  how 
the  Roman  ChVirch,  still  clinging  to  the  methods  which 
proved  potent  over  the  heathen  of  the  sixth  century, 
and  sufficed  for  the  monks  and  schoolmen  of  the  twelfth, 
erects  her  authority  in  the  face  of  the  nineteenth  century, 
and  forgets  that  only  by  Reason  can  Reason  be  van- 
quished. And  as  if  it  were  not  labor  enough  to  fight  with 
antiquated  weapons  for  her  spiritual  supremacy,  she  would 
compel  the  modern  world  to  recognize  her  carnal  offspring, 
the  temporal  Papacy,  begotten  amid  conditions  long  ago 
obsolete. 

The  second  mediaeval  heirloom  is  the  idea  of  monar- 
chical government :  the  assmnption  that  a  king  rules 
by  divine  right,  that  he  is  the  fountain  of  honor  and 
source  of  justice,  that  his  will  is  absolute  law,  so  that  he 
may  dispose  of  the  service,  proj)erty,  and  lives  of  his  sub- 
jects as  suits  his  whim.  As  a  corollary  from  this  is  the 
division  of  society  into  three  classes,  nobility  and  clergy 
forming  the  privileged  class,  merchants  or  bourgeoisie  the 
middle  class,  and  peasants  and  common  laborers  the  low- 
est or  servile  class.  Only  the  king  is  his  own  master  ;  all 
the  others  in  some  sense  belong  to  him. 

A  wonderful  scheme.  Upper  class  did  not  work,  iinless 
the  performance  of  Church  ceremonies  and  the  fighting  of 
battles  were  work  ;  yet  both  nobles  and  clergy,  whctlier 
they  were  idle  or  diligent,  received  tithes  and  taxes.  Mid- 
dle class  worked  with  the  head,  and  enjoyed  what  wealth 
remained  to  it  after  paying  tribute  to  king,  count,  and 
Church.  Lower  class  worked  witli  tlie  hand,  yet  was  of 
no  more  account  than  cattle  which  workcvl  with  tlie  hoof  ; 
for  all  its  products,  after  deducting  enougli  wool  for  its 
homes])un  jerkin  and  enough  wheat  for  its  daily  loaf, 
passed  upward  to  eni'ich  its  supci'iovs.  Labor  is  the  law 
of  life  ;  every  man  must  earn  his  food,  ai»])ar»'l,  and  lodg- 
ing;  the  gods  do  not  give,  thry  lend,  and  men  must  rr])ay 
their  loan;  ha})piness  itself,  if  attained  at  all,  can  be  at- 


40  THE    DAWN    OF   ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

tained  only  through  work  ;  but  the  Feudal  scheme  bestowed 
the  highest  rewards  on  those  who  did  not  toil,  while  de- 
meaning the  many  who  with  head  or  hand  toiled  for  the 
privileged  few.  The  law  of  primogeniture  kept  great  estates 
intact,  and  transmitted  titles  to  idleness  from  generation 
to  generation,  by  making  birth  a  lottery,  in  which  the 
first-born  drew  the  grand  prize  and  his  younger  brothers 
drew  blanks.  Finally,  woman  held  a  position  inferior  to 
man  in  society  and  before  the  law  ;  the  singers  of  chivalry 
had  lifted  her  above  the  level  of  mere  sexual  companion- 
ship, but  she  was  in  fact  treated  as  a  subordinate,  and 
could  not  be  treated  otherwise  in  a  system  framed  by 
men  who,  as  warriors,  looked  upon  women  as  weak  but 
pleasant  solaces  during  the  unheroic  interludes  of  peace, 
or  who,  as  priests,  regarded  them  as  decoys  set  by  the 
Devil  to  entrap  pilgrims  on  their  way  to  heaven. 

These  are  among  the  bequests  and  posthumous  influ- 
ences which  the  modern  world  has  received  from  mediaeval 
times,  ancestral  taints  and  hereditary  diseases  from  which 
Europe  has  not  yet  wholly  purged  herself.  What  was 
beneficent  died  with  its  season,  leaving  its  husk,  its  sym- 
bol, to  deceive  mankind.  When  the  Cid  was  dead,  they 
clad  his  body  in  his  armor,  and  put  his  good  sword  Colada 
in  his  hand,  and  set  him  upon  his  steed  Bavieca,  and  then, 
a  squire  sustaining  the  corpse  on  each  side,  they  led  him 
forth  from  the  city ;  and  at  sight  of  him  approaching, 
the  army  of  the  Saracens  were  seized  with  fear  and  fled 
while  the  hero  was  still  afar  off.  Verily,  most  tenacious 
among  men  is  the  worship  of  a  symbol  after  its  reality 
has  vanished.  Look  at  Europe  at  any  moment  during  the 
past  ages,  and  see  how  ghosts  bearing  great  names  and 
dummies  dressed  in  royal  garments  have  lorded  it  over 
her.  At  Rome,  for  instance,  see  the  mightiest  symbol,  — 
the  Pope  ;  in  reality  he  should  be  meek,  unselfish,  pure, 
spiritu.al,  as  becomes  the  successor  of  Peter  the  Fisher- 
man and  the  representative  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth ;    but 


DEVELOPMENT   OF   STATE   AND   CHURCH.  41 

Popes  long  since  exchanged  humility  for  a  monarch's 
pomp  ;  they  haVe  been  by  turns  worldly,  proud,  licen- 
tious, cruel,  ignorant,  —  as  far  removed  from  the  Christ- 
like ideal  as  their  hell  from  heaven  ;  and  yet  being  clothed 
in  the  symbol,  they  have  had  the  reverence  which  the 
reality  once  drew  to  it.  The  pontiff  cannot  foretell  whether 
he  shall  live  to  behold  to-morrow's  sun,  nevertheless  the 
keys  of  eternity  jangle  on  his  girdle.  Or  look  at  that 
other  symbol,  —  the  Holy  Roman  Em})eror ;  that,  too, 
was  a  reality  in  Charlemain  ;  it  meant  an  invincible  con- 
queror, a  wise  legislator  ;  it  meant  a  ruler  strong  enough 
to  yoke  order  upon  the  turbulence  of  Western  Christen- 
dom ;  it  stood  for  prudent  counsel  and  power  to  enforce 
it.  But  when  Charlemain  died,  only  his  name,  like  a 
mantle,  survived,  to  be  worn  by  men  who  had  barely  a 
province  loyal  to  them,  or  by  wealdings  unfit  for  camp 
and  council,  until  even  boys  were  swaddled  in  its  folds. 
And  yet  tiie  sight  of  that  symbol  inspired  some  of  that 
awe  which  originally  only  Charlemain  could  ins])ire,  as  if 
some  of  his  vigor  had  been  diffused  through  his  imperial 
robes,  there  to  lie  latent  for  ages.  And  only  a  little  while 
ago  men  were  among  us  who  as  schoolboys  learned  the 
name  of  the  then  reigning  Emperor,  and  who  remembered 
when  the  news  came  that  the  very  symbol  of  the  I  loly 
Roman  Empire  was  no  more.  And  so  with  the  other 
titles  which  distinguish  the  peerage  of  modein  Eur()])e : 
the  duke  was  originally  the  leader  of  an  army,  a  skilful 
general  and  brave  fighter;  the  count  was  the  Em])eror's 
companion,  chosen  for  valor  or  shrewdness  ;  the  iuar(iuis 
was  the  Emperor's  d<'])uty,  eiiai-ged  to  defend  tlie  march 
between  the  Em})ire  and  barbarians.  Hut  these  titles  be- 
came hereditary,  and  sons  who  had  no  soldierly  ([ualities 
decked  themselves  in  syml)ols  their  sires  had  made  signiii- 
cant ;  till  by  and  l)y  the  court  dandies  and  rich  merchants 
and  the  bastards  of  royal  mistresses  wore  the  honors  once 
intended    for  cham])ions   in  war.       The    I''nii>eror  likewise 


42  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

was  served  by  a  cupbearer,  a  steward,  a  marshal,  and  a 
chamberlain ;  and  these  titles  also  were  bestowed  later 
upon  courtiers  who  had  never  raised  a  goblet  (except  to 
their  own  lips),  or  borne  a  platter,  or  groomed  a  horse,  or 
made  a  bed.  In  many  other  instances  we  might  point  out 
how  Reality  slipped  away  from  its  symbol,  with  the  con- 
sequent perversion  and  misapplication  of  symbols,  and 
the  gradual  dulling  of  the  senses  to  Reality ;  but  in  the 
Roman  Church,  as  elaborated  by  mediaeval  theologians, 
and  in  the  monarchical  institution  of  modern  times,  we 
have  the  best  illustrations  of  the  pertinacity  of  symbols. 
The  veneration  jiaid  to  the  relics  of  departed  saints,  and  to 
the  robes  and  titles  of  living  potentates,  is  the  expression 
of  one  of  the  strongest  instincts  of  human  nature,  —  the 
tendency,  that  is,  to  mistake  the  symbol  for  the  reality, 
the  body  for  the  soul,  the  letter  for  the  spirit.  Neverthe- 
less, "  the  letter  killeth,  but  the  spirit  giveth  life." 


CHAPTER  IV. 

MANY   REPUBLICS,    BUT   NO   NATION. 

We  have  thus  far  measured  roughly  the  trunk  of  that 
new  society  which  sprang  up  in  Europe  after  the  fall  of 
the  Western  Empire,  —  a  tree  rooted  in  the  soil  of  Teu- 
tonism  and  manured  by  the  decaying  Roman  civilization : 
for  Providence,  to  whom  nothing  is  waste,  uses  corrupt 
races,  like  dead  leaves,  to  fertilize  exhausted  human  na- 
ture for  other  croj^s.  We  must  now  examine  more  partic- 
ularly the  branch  which  earliest  stretched  out  from  that 
trunk;  we  must  confine  ourselves  to  the  development  of 
the  Italian  people.  Why  was  it  that  Italy,  the  first  coun- 
try to  revive,  did  not  revive  as  a  nation?  We  see  })lainly 
enough  that  the  principle  of  nationality  was  shaping  the 
people  of  the  North  into  distinct  States,  and  that,  by  the 
end  of  the  Middle  Age,  these  States  had  a  recognized 
existence:  why  was  it  that  the  Italians,  so  superior  to  the 
northerners  at  the  start,  failed  to  attain  national  unity  ? 
Three  causes  opposed  the  tendency  to  a  national  union  in 
Italy  and  doomed  her  to  a  thousand  years  of  thraldom, 
discord,  and  shame:  these  were  first,  the  Papacy,  which, 
in  spite  of  its  Italian  origin  and  methods,  strove  to  extend 
its  sway  over  Christendom,  instead  of  confining  itself  to 
the  peninsula;  second,  the  Empire,  whose  liead,  a  for- 
eigner, being  the  nominal  King  of  Italy,  brooked  no 
native  rival;  and  third,  tlu;  astonishingly  rapid  develop- 
ment of  small  States,  from  the  Al])s  to  Sieily. 

In  no  other  country  in  the  woi'ld,  not  even  in  Greece, 
has  a  race  manifested  so  varied  a  sensibility  as  in  Italy. 
The  wonderful  keenness,  delicacy,  and  energy  of  the  Ital- 


44  THE   DAWN   OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

ian  character,  responsive  to  the  smallest  diversity  of  place 
and  condition,  blossomed  in  new  forms  of  individuality, 
each  differing  from  the  rest.  At  a  time  when  England 
or  France  had  hardly  one  centre  from  which  the  national 
life-blood  pulsated  through  all  the  members  of  the  people, 
in  Italy  there  were  a  score  of  such  centres,  each  distinct, 
each  throbbing  with  life.  Indeed,  there  were  too  many 
hearts,  too  many  little  republics;  the  competition  among 
them  was  too  incessant;  the  area  from  which  each  drew 
its  sustenance  was  too  narrow.  Having  exhausted  their 
own  store,  they  fell  to  devouring  each  other,  till  tyrants 
mightier  and  more  rapacious  than  they  came  and  found 
them  an  easy  quarry.  This  marvelous  individuality,  so 
intense  and  productive  of  splendid  monuments  in  art,  in 
religion,  in  government,  in  literature,  was  the  glory  of 
Italy,  and  insured  for  her  the  everlasting  interest  of  men. 
But  she  bought  distinction  at  the  expense  of  her  political 
independence,  and  she,  who  led  the  nations  to  that  modern 
civilization  out  of  which  they  have  drawn  their  freedom, 
was  destined  not  to  be  free.  Like  a  discoverer,  whose 
genius  had  added  to  the  power  and  wealth  and  happiness 
of  mankind,  she  was  condemned  to  live  poor  and  forlorn. 
More  than  once  in  the  early  age  was  she  teased  by  the 
delusive  prospect  of  independence.  At  the  dissolution  of 
the  Western  Empire,  Odoaeer  united  the  peninsula  in 
his  Ostrogothic  kingdom,  which  Tlieodorie,  the  first  of 
the  barbarians  who  displayed  talents  of  administration, 
strengthened.  But  at  his  death,  Justinian,  the  Eastern 
Emperor,  reasserted  his  claims  in  Italy,  and  dispatched 
thither  first  Belisarius  and  then  Narses,  who  routed  Theo- 
doric's  heirs  and  brought  their  possessions  under  the  rule 
of  Byzantine  exarchs.  Justinian  died,  and  another  Teu- 
tonic tribe,  the  Lombards,  settled  in  Northern  Italy; 
they  were  fierce  and  lawless,  but  nevertheless  they  had 
force,  —  the  first  element  of  superiority,  —  and  they 
mi<rht  in  time  have  been  tamed  into  civilization  through 


MANY   REPUBLICS,    BUT   NO   NATION.  45 

the  influence  of  thp  people  they  had  conquered.  But  just 
as  they  were  becoming  paramount,  tlie  Pope,  harassed 
and  terrified  by  their  encroachments,  sent  over  the  Alps 
and  besought  Cliarles  Martel  to  hasten  to  his  assistance. 
Gregory  III  is  the  name  of  this  pontiff  who  set  the  exam- 
ple of  calling  foreigners  into  Italy,  —  a  precedent  fol- 
lowed century  after  century,  till  the  ruin  of  the  country 
was  complete.  Charles  Martel  died  before  he  could  pun- 
ish the  Lombards,  but  his  son  Pepin,  and  his  grandson 
Charlemain,  obeyed  similar  calls,  and  reduced  the  Lom- 
bards to  the  condition  of  vassals.  Italy  became  a  fief  of 
the  Emperor,  who  was  crowned  king  at  Milan.  When 
Charlemain 's  dominion  fell  in  pieces,  Italy  was  left  in 
confusion ;  almost  abandoned  by  her  nominal  sovereign, 
she  was  the  victim  of  the  ambition  of  her  native  princes, 
who  fought  to  possess  her.  Again  it  seemed  likely  that 
an  Italian,  descended  from  the  Lombard  princes,  would 
establish  himself  as  king;  but  a  strong  Emperor,  Otto  I, 
marched  against  him,  humbled  him,  renewed  the  compact 
between  the  Empire  and  the  Church,  and  left  a  terrible 
warning  for  all  future  aspirants.  Otto  it  was  who  fixed 
those  relations  between  the  Emperor  and  the  Pope  which 
formed  the  basis  of  mediieval  polity  and  were  the  cause 
of  mediaeval  conflicts.  The  Popes,  as  we  have  seen, 
gained  in  this  struggle;  but  they  had  the  aggrandize- 
ment of  the  Pa])acy,  and  not  the  welfare  of  Italy,  in  view. 
Had  they  dreamed  of  uniting  the  Italians  in  one  State, 
they  would  hav«;  been  ])rev(;nte(l  by  the  Italians  them- 
selves; for  local  competition  was  too  vehtMuent  to  allow 
the  republics  to  merge  their  individual  jjrivileges  for  the 
sake  of  a  larg<'r  collective  freedom.  To  secure  advantages 
for  itself,  by  i)ropitiatiiig  now  the  Euiperor  and  now  tbe 
Pope,  according  as  the  one  or  the  other  liajtjx'ned  to  be 
up])ermost,  was  therefoi-e  tii<'  policy  of  eaeli  rei)ul)lic. 

Thus  in  Italy  there  was  no  general   movement  towards 
national  coherence.      There  sprang  up  no  dynasty,  —  like 


46  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

that  of  the  Capets  in  France,  or  of  Wessex  in  England, 
or  of  the  Saxons  in  Germany,  —  to  arouse  in  the  Italians 
the  sense  of  a  common  fatherland,  broader  than  the  fron- 
tiers of  any  province,  and  including  the  interests  of  every 
district.  There  was,  instead,  a  bourgeoning  of  many 
separate  communities,  in  almost  any  one  of  which  flour- 
ished a  higher  civilization  than  could  then  be  found  north 
of  the  Alps.  As  early  as  the  time  of  Charlemain,  the 
Greek  cities  of  Southern  Italy  prospered.  Their  ships 
traded  with  Constantinople  and  the  Levant.  The  coin  of 
Amalfi  passed  current  along  the  shores  of  the  Mediterra- 
nean. The  School  of  Medicine  at  Salerno^  had  already, 
in  the  ninth  century,  a  wide  reputation.  When  the  Nor- 
man invasion  crippled  these  southern  States,  —  so  small, 
but  sturdy,  —  others  came  to  their  growth  in  the  north, 
Pisa  first,  then  Genoa  and  Venice.  The  sea  wonderfully 
promotes  enterprises  in  those  who  dwell  along  its  shores. 
Its  paths  lead  to  all  countries ;  its  severities  and  dangers 
toughen  the  body  and  call  forth  presence  of  mind  and 
fortitude.  Thus  its  children,  the  seafaring  nations,  have 
been  brave  and  alert,  and  by  their  intercourse  with  other 
people  they  have  escaped  the  stagnation  of  pastoral  life. 
Amalfi  and  Pisa,  Genoa  and  Venice,  these  were  the  medi- 
ieval  children  of  the  sea :  breathing  its  strong  salt  air  and 
shrinking  not  from  its  stern  hazards,  they  acquired  some 
of  the  inexhaustible  energy  of  the  ocean  itself.  Each 
was  an  example  of  the  quickness  and  sane  vigor  with 
which  the  new  Italian  race  threw  itself  into  the  work  of 
mastering  the  obstacles  amid  which  it  was  placed,  and  of 
drawing  from  them,  as  from  a  quarry,  the  materials  of  a 
new  civilization. 

But  not  alone  along  its  seaboard  was  Italy  active. 
Her  inland  towns  had  suffered  less  than  her  rural  districts 
from  the  Teutonic  inundation.      It  is  a  common  error  to 

'  For  an  account  of  this  earliest  European  university,  see  Coppi :  Le 
Universita  Italiane  nel  Medio  Evo  (Florence,  1880). 


MANY   REPUBLICS,    BUT   NO   NATION.  47 

suppose  that  the 'barbarians  exterminated  the  peoples 
whom  they  conquered;  nowhere  was  this  true,  in  Italy 
least  of  all.  Their  position  there  has  been  aptly  likened 
to  that  of  the  English  conquerors  in  India,  under  the 
Mogul  Empire;  "they  were  in  it,  but  not  of  it."^  Infe- 
rior in  numbers  to  their  subjects,  they  gradually  became 
fused  with  them.  The  Teuton  was  merely  a  fighter,  but 
he  quickly  perceived  that  the  wealth  which  was  his  prize 
in  Italy  depended  upon  the  preservation  of  a  system  of 
agriculture,  industry,  and  law  that  had  been  perfected  by 
the  vanquished  race.  He  was  shrewd  enough  not  to  de- 
stroy those  who  possessed  the  key  to  this  system,  —  a  key 
which  unlocked  the  treasure  he  coveted.  He  had  brought 
his  own  tribal  laws,  but  these,  complicated,  fluctuating, 
and  unwritten,  disappeared  before  the  permanent  and 
clearly  codified  laws  of  Rome.  lie  had  brouglit  his  own 
gods,  but  these,  too,  vanished  before  the  new  religion  of 
Rome.  He  felt  the  mighty  spell  of  learning,  —  that  in- 
tangible power  which  survives  the  shock  of  armies  and 
looks  disdainfully  upon  the  rude  triumphs  of  brute  force, 
—  and  he  knew  that  only  from  his  subjects  was  that 
learning  to  be  had.  A  king  he  was,  but  a  king  depen- 
dent upon  coimselors  who  excelled  him  in  everytliing 
except  physical  strength.  Thus  was  he  moulded  on  all 
sides  by  the  subtle  influence  of  the  race  he  had  overcome. 
The  Roman  had  been  mastered  by  the  culture  of  his 
Greek  bondsmen,  so  that  the  most  eminent  Augustan 
works  seem  only  to  echo  the  deathless  Athenian  voices; 
in  like  manner,  but  even  more  complett'ly,  tlie  Teuton 
in  Italy  was  absorl)ed  in  the  survival  of  Roman  civiliza- 
tion. 

In  Italy,  moreover,  feudalism  took  a  weaker  hold  tliaii 
in  the  Transalpine  countri(\s.  The  absence  oi  a  stalwart 
sovereign  favored  the  growtli  of  many  small  States.  The 
cities  had  never  quite  lost  tluMnnnicipal  and  legal  customs 

'   R.  W.  Church:    Thr  Btginninrj  of  lh>  Middle  A'jis.  p    H>. 


48  THE    DAWN    OF   ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

handed  down  from  imperial  times,  and  they  were  there- 
fore fitted  for  the  rapid  expansion  of  civic  life.  Each  city 
had  its  count,  the  nominal  representative  of  the  Emperor, 
and  its  bishop,  who  derived  his  authority  from  the  Pope ; 
and  it  was  natural  that  these  two  rulers  should  strive  to 
outwit  each  other,  and  that  the  burghers  should  gain  con- 
cessions for  themselves  by  supporting  now  one  and  now 
the  other.  Like  a  household  in  which  the  father  and 
mother  having  quarreled,  the  spoilt  child  gets  permis- 
sion from  one  parent  to  do  what  the  other  forbids,  so  the 
citizens  of  Lombardy  or  Tuscany  profited  by  the  rivalry 
between  the  Empire  and  the  Papacy.  During  the  twelfth 
century  the  towns  were,  with  but  few  exceptions,  on  the 
side  of  the  Pope,  as  the  master  to  be  less  feared.  Fred- 
erick Barbarossa,  the  mediaeval  sovereign  whom  history 
and  legend  agree  in  honoring  next  after  Charlemain,  came 
into  Italy  to  subdue  the  rebellious  Lombard  cities.  At 
the  first  onset  he  succeeded;  Milan  was  destroyed  after 
a  cruel  siege;  Crema,  her  ally,  also  fell.  For  Milan's 
neighbors,  jealous  of  her  supremacy,  had  looked  on  with 
malicious  satisfaction  while  she  suffered ;  but  by  the  light 
of  her  burning  dwellings  they  saw  their  own  danger. 
For  the  first  time  in  their  history  Italians  forgot  their 
local  spites,  recognized  a  common  duty  to  each  other, 
and  formed  a  league.  They  helped  to  rebuild  ]\Iilan, 
and  then  prepared  to  fight  together  for  freedom.  Freder- 
ick returned,  full  of  wrath  and  confident  of  victory.  The 
Milanese,  who  had  time  to  summon  only  a  few  allies 
from  Piacenza,  Verona,  Brescia,  and  Novara,  met  him 
at  Leguano,  May  29,  1176.  The  Germans  had  almost 
conquered,  when  they  were  checked  by  a  band  of  brave 
youths,  who  called  themselves  the  Company  of  Death. 
The  waverers  rallied;  from  resisting  they  advanced,  and 
the  Germans  in  their  turn  wavered,  then  retreated,  then 
fled.  Frederick  himself  barely  escaped  capture;  his 
camp  was  pillaged,   his  army  dispersed.      For   the  first 


MANY    REPUBLICS,   BUT   NO   NATION.  49 

time  Italians  had 'fought  man  to  man  with  foreign  invad- 
ers and  routed  them;  for  the  first  time,  and  almost  for 
the  last,  until  the  present  century. 

That  victory  of  Legnano  might  have  been  the  har- 
binger of  a  new  era  for  Italy.  The  patriotism  then 
kindled  might  have  welded  the  States  in  the  north  into 
a  confederation,  which  should  have  gradually  stretched 
southward;  but  there  were  too  many  forces  eager  to 
shatter  such  a  fabric.  The  Pope,  though  he  rejoiced  at 
his  adversary's  humiliation,  in  nowise  intended  that  the 
cities  should  pass  out  of  his  own  control :  and  the  cities, 
having  wrested  large  concessions  from  Frederick,  fell  to 
wrangling  amongst  themselves.  The  danger  from  abroad 
being  surmounted,  they  dissolved  their  union,  and  each 
pressed  forward  in  its  own  concerns,  striving  to  outrun 
its  neighbor,  and  unscrupulous  in  the  choice  of  means  by 
which  to  circumvent  or  to  excel  him.  During  two  hun- 
dred years,  Nortliern  and  Central  Italy  were  torn  by  the 
quarrels  of  factions,  in  which  city  raised  its  arm  against 
city,  and  brother  against  brother.  It  was  as  if  a  vehe- 
ment wind  contended  against  a  strong  tide.  Two  great 
parties  — the  Guelfs  (Pope)  and  the  Ghibellines  (P^m- 
peror)  — divided  the  allegiance  of  the  contestants;  but 
in  each  town  local  feuds  and  family  ambitions  gave  a 
different  (complexion  to  the  struggle.  A  tiff  bctwi'on 
lovers,  a  dispute  between  merchants,  a  fancied  insult,  a 
suspected  encroachment,  —  these  were  trifles  sufficient  to 
set  a  whole  province  in  a  l)laze  which  burned  luridly  long 
after  its  cause  was  consumed  and  foi-gottcn. 

Nevertheltiss,  we  can  discern  amid  this  incessant  con- 
fusion that  mighty  changes  wen;  unfolding.  Tlie  cities, 
despite  wars,  grew  rich,  and  their  control  passed  fnun  the 
old  noldes,  whose  titles  had  originated  with  th<'  Pope  or 
the  Em])eror,  into  the  hands  of  the  merchants  and  tnides- 
men.  These,  organizing  in  ;irts  or  guilds,  chose  repre- 
sentatives who  administered  the  couuuonwealth  and  were 


50  THE   DAWN   OF  ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

amenable  to  all  the  citizens.  The  government  was  there- 
fore popular,  or  republican,  but  no  longer  stable.  The 
passion  for  freedom  was  impetuous,  but  not  yet  tolerant. 
Restless  competition  and  pitiless  strife  sharpened  the 
wits,  and  quickened  that  tendency  to  strong  individuality 
which  had  already  been  set  in  motion  by  the  varieties  of 
interest,  place,  and  tradition.  Characters  remarkable 
for  their  intensity,  deeds  conspicuous  for  their  heroism  or 
their  wickedness,  astonish  us  wherever  we  look  into  that 
epoch.  The  monotony  of  the  Middle  Age  had  been  suc- 
ceeded by  an  unexampled  diversity ;  its  grim  seriousness 
had  been  broken  by  the  loud  laughter  of  the  Goliardi ;  in- 
stead of  masses  drifting  sluggishly,  we  behold  individuals, 
sharply  defined  and  strong,  each  rushing  with  the  turbu- 
lence of  a  mountain  torrent.  But  as  civic  power  de- 
scended to  lower  and  lower  levels,  it  became  more  and 
more  unstable,  till  at  last  it  reached  the  rabble,  always 
fickle,  always  ready  to  hearken  to  demagogues.  Swift 
changes,  tumults,  proscriptions,  and  at  last  exhaustion, 
—  that  is  the  inevitable  sequence  in  the  degeneration  of 
popular  governments;  and  when  exhaustion  supervenes, 
the  tyrant  steps  in.  By  the  beginning  of  the  fourteenth 
century,  the  energy  of  the  Italian  republics  was  spent : 
each  lay  panting  for  the  strong  man  to  come  to  take  from 
it  that  fatal  gift  of  liberty  which  it  had  not  known  how 
to  preserve. 

Yet  how  rich,  how  surpassing  rich,  was  the  Italian  gen- 
ius at  that  time  I  Its  political  experiments,  so  brilliant 
and  so  instructive,  gave  but  one  outlet  to  that  versatile 
and  fervent  nature.  Within  a  hundred  years  appeared 
Thomas  Aquinas,  the  "angelic  doctor,"  who  dressed  Ro- 
man theology  in  the  garb  it  wears  to-day;  Niccolb  the 
Pisan,  earliest  of  modern  sculptors;  Arnolfo,  the  first  in 
time  and  all  but  the  first  in  achievement  of  modern  archi- 
tects ;  Giotto,  who  left  one  of  the  perfect  i)uildings  in  the 
world,  and  whose  inexhaustible  imagination  outlined  the 


MANY    REPUBLICS,    BUT   NO    NATION.  51 

types  for  three  centuries  of  painters ;  Dante,  the  world- 
poet;  Petrarch,  the  man  of  universal  erudition,  and  the 
singer  of  the  deathless  sonnets ;  Boccaccio,  the  father  of 
modern  prose.  These  are  names  which,  viewed  individ- 
ually, shine  among  the  brightest  in  the  constellations  of 
Art  and  Learning;  but  they  represent  more  than  them- 
selves, more  than  the  isolated  achievements  of  genius.^ 
A  whole  race  expressed  itself  through  them,  —  a  race  sen- 
sitive to  the  least  touch  of  beauty,  brimming  with  the 
wine  of  passion,  trained  and  stimulated  and  disenthralled 
by  all  varieties  of  experience.  At  last,  after  more  than 
a  thousand  years  of  silence  or  stammering,  the  human 
spirit  had  again  a  voice.  It  spoke  through  many  forms 
of  art  and  literature,  religion  was  its  oracle,  the  great 
universities  were  its  mouthpiijces,  new  forms  of  govern- 
ment were  its  tribune,  and  still  there  remained  to  it  mes- 
sages to  be  exi)ressed  through  the  Immble  dail}-  affairs  of 
men.  The  Italians  were  the  ])ioneers  in  commerce,  they 
organized  a  banking  system,^  they  were  prol)al)ly  the  first 
to  write  policies  of  insurance.  Their  merchants  and  fab- 
rics were  known  in  all  the  marts  of  Euro])e ;  the  florin  of 
Florence  ^  and  the  ducat  of  Venice  circidated  from  Lon- 
don in  the  West  to  Samarcand  in  the  East.  Manners, 
which  sweeten  and  smooth  social  intercourse,  by  marking 
out  a  neutral  ground  where  personalities  the  most  antag- 
onistic can  meet  without  clashing,  were  already  far  ad- 
vanced in  refinement  among  the  Italians,  at  a  time  wlien 
German  princes  and  English  barons  were  still  uncouth. 
Even  upon  tools  and  household  utensils  this  pervasive 
and  exuberant  spirit  left  its  mark  of  gi-ace,  wedding  util- 
ity to  beauty,  were  it  oidy  in  tlie  manufacture  of  a  hinge 
or  of  a  lantern.  Such  was  the  activity  of  the  Italian 
spirit,  in  spite  of  incessant  unrest,  and  of  the  lack  of  a 
concerted  national  life. 

'   Remark  th;it   all  thesf.  except   St.  Tlioiiias,  were  Tu.seaiis.     The  elder 
Villain,  the  earliest  modern  liisturiaii,  niij;ht  l>e  added  to  tlie  li->l. 
-  The    I'ank  of  N'enice  w.xs  founded  in  1171. 
■'  The  first  florin  was  eoiiu  d  in  !_'"il.'. 


CHAPTER  V. 

DANTE. 

Of  Dante  we  must  speak,  however  briefly,  because 
neither  the  character  of  the  Italians  nor  the  subsequent 
history  of  Italy  can  be  understood,  unless  the  genius  and 
influence  of  Dante  be  in  some  measure  computed. 
Whether  you  look  at  him  as  poet  or  as  man,  he  is  equally 
wonderful,  and  it  was  his  fortune  to  undergo  the  myste- 
ries of  mortality  at  a  unique  period  in  the  progress  of 
mankind.  Other  great  men,  —  David,  Pericles,  Caesar, 
Shakespeare,  Moliere,  Goethe,  —  coming  at  a  great  mo- 
ment in  their  country's  political  or  intellectual  develop- 
ment, stand  forever  as  its  representative  and  epitome: 
but  Dante  is  more  than  this;  he  is  not  only  the  consum- 
mation of  Florentine  genius,  not  only  the  exemplar  of  the 
Italian  race,  but  he  embodies  one  form  of  European  civ- 
ilization, and  he  leads  the  way  to  the  next.  His  poem  is 
alike  the  most  vivid  and  varied  record  of  mediaeval  con- 
ditions, and  the  noblest  expression  of  the  only  European 
religion  which  has  deserved  the  name  Catholic.  In  that 
poem  you  may  read  the  actual  life  of  Dante's  contempo- 
raries and  the  ideal  life  towards  which  the  purest  of  them 
aspired.  It  was  possible  for  him  to  know  all  that  was 
known  in  his  time  — •  good  fortune  which,  owing  to  the 
continual  widening  and  particularization  of  knowledge, 
has  been  denied  to  his  successors;  so  we  may  say  truly 
of  his  erudition  that  it  was  universal.  But  eriulition  of 
itself  is  impotent :  how  many  of  the  erudite  have  we  not 
seen  bending  under  a  huge  burden  of  facts,  but  palsied 
in  will   and  shriveled  in  heart,  to  die  at  last  famished, 


DANTE.  53 

like  the  ass  in  tlie  fable,  powerless  to  reach  the  sack  of 
meal  strapped  on  his  back?  Dante  had  learning  and 
much  more  than  learning;  he  had  passion  and  imagina- 
tion, the  poet's  supreme  equipment;  and  he  had  experi- 
ence with  life  on  many  levels;  and  thus  he  transmuted 
scholasticism,  theology,  statecraft,  into  living  realities, 
making  allegories  concrete,  and  turning  the  concrete 
deeds  of  men  into  symbols  of  wide  and  perpetual  signifi- 
cance. 

That  "  Divine  Comedy  "  of  his  was  the  emancipation  and 
warrant  of  the  modern  intellect.  Twelve  hundred  years 
had  elapsed  since  Europe  had  been  ennobled  by  a  mas- 
terpiece. The  colossal  fragments  of  classical  literature 
astonished  and  discouraged  the  mediaeval  mind ;  for  the 
})ower  which  created  them  seemed  to  have  vanished  along 
with  the  youth  of  the  world.  The  doom  of  inferiority 
was  evident  and  men  accepted  it,  until  Dante's  epic  broke 
the  spell  of  the  Past.  Let  Greece  bring  her  Homer  and 
Rome  her  Virgil,  here  was  their  peer,  who,  speaking  a 
new  tongue,  bore  witness  to  a  genius  as  inexhaustible,  as 
lofty,  as  any  in  antiquity.  Dante  wavered,  it  is  said, 
between  writing  in  Latin  and  writing  in  Italian:  by 
choosing  Italian,  he  gave  a  patent  of  nobility  to  every 
modern  language.  The  vernacular  had  been  hitherto  a 
sort  of  Cinderella,  a  household  drudge,  good  enougli  for 
sintrinsf  rustic  sonars  and  lesfcnds.  <rood  enou"])  for  kitclien 
gossip  and  peasant  wooing,  whilst  Latin  and  Greek,  the 
two  proud  sisters,  rt^ad  learned  books  in  tlu;  parlor,  and 
talked  theology  with  the  bisliop  in  liis  palace.^  Dante, 
like  th(!  ])rine«*  in  tlie  faiiy  tale,  came  and  made  a  prin- 
cess of  the  despised  one.  In  so  doing  he  confirmed  the 
European  tendency  towards  national  life,  of  whieli  lan- 
guage  is   the  most   obvious  outward   sign;    the   popular 

^  I  need  hardly  remind  tlie  readi-r  tliat  in  Dante's  time  (ireek  \v:is  nn- 
known  to  Italian  scholars;  they  read  Aristotle  and  Homer  in  Latin  trans- 
lations. 


64  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

speech  in  England,  France,  Spain,  Germany,  and  Italy 
became  the  vehicle  for  literary  expression,  as  well  as  the 
medium  for  daily  intercourse,  and  although  Latin  was 
employed  by  scholars  down  to  the  eighteenth  century,  the 
most  precious  works  of  literature  since  Dante's  time  have 
been  written  in  the  language  spoken  and  understood  by 
the  people.  The  Italian  sonnets  of  Petrarch  are  as  fresh 
as  the  sweet  notes  of  nightingale  or  throstle,  whereas  his 
Latin  epic  is  as  mute  as  some  antediluvian  bird,  some 
epiornis,  whose  huge  skeleton  is  dug  from  its  sepulchre 
of  primeval  slime;  a  few  ringing  songs  of  Ulrich  von 
Ilutten  outlive  the  learned  sarcasms  of  Erasmus,  Thus 
in  its  form  ""The  Divine  Comedy  "  is  an  epoch-making 
book;  indeed,  none  other  in  literature  so  well  deserves 
that  title ;  for  it  authorized  the  new  peoples  to  write  after 
their  own  fashion,  unabashed  by  antique  precedents,  and 
it  determined  the  utterance  of  Chaucer  and  Cervantes,  of 
Camoens  and  Montaigne. 

In  its  subject,  also,  it  is  equally  original.  The  great 
poets  of  antiquity  had  sung  the  exploits  of  legendary 
heroes,  the  fortunes  of  jjrincely  families,  the  passions  of 
very  human  gods;  Dante  wrote  the  epic  of  the  human 
soul.  Here  is  a  theme  which,  for  reality  and  interest, 
surpasses  all  the  rest.  The  conflict  in  the  soul  between 
good  and  evil,  —  what  Trojan  War,  what  Battle  of 
Giants,  is  so  awful  as  that?  The  progress  of  the  soul 
through  the  hell,  purgatory,  and  paradise  of  earthly  ex- 
perience, —  its  wrestling  with  temptation,  its  alliance 
with  virtue,  its  vision  of  a  perfection  hovering,  beautiful 
but  elusive,  along  the  future's  horizon, — what  Odyssey 
is  so  impressive,  so  varied  as  that?  And  Dante  illustrates 
this  universal  moral  order,  not  by  cold,  dead  abstrac- 
tions, but  by  living  examples;  he  shows  pride  and  lust, 
loving-kindness  and  sanctity,  as  we  all  know  them, 
through  individuals.  He  ransacks  past  and  present  for 
specimens  of  every  variety  of  character.      He  tells  us,  in 


DANTE.  55 

words  how  few  "but  how  indelible,  what  each  one  did, 
and  we  know  fi'om  the  deed  what  each  one  was.  In  that 
work  of  his,  Mediaevalism  and  Catholicism  are  summed 
up :  a  world-polity  and  a  world-religion  utter  their  highest 
message  to  mankind.  But  there  is  in  "The  Divine 
Comedy  "  something  deeper,  something  more  permanent 
than  any  social  or  religious  system :  there  is  in  it  the  im- 
perishable substance  of  human  nature,  out  of  which  all 
creeds  and  systems  are  woven,  and  into  which  they  all 
dissolve.  The  Mediaevalism,  except  as  a  symbol,  is  obso- 
lete; the  Catholicism  affronts  our  modern  reason;  the 
philosophy  sounds  strange  to  our  modern  ears ;  but  we 
can  strip  all  these  away  without  impairing  the  essential 
worth  beneath;  having  done  so,  we  shall  perceive  that 
under  those  transient  forms  one  of  the  four  or  five  men 
who  have  seen  farthest  and  clearest  into  the  mystery  of 
life  is  dealing  with  that  which  perpetually  concerns  the 
soul.  Time  shall  make  our  own  conclusions  on  these 
themes  ancient;  the  language  wherein  our  philosoj)hy  is 
clothed  sliall  look  awkward  and  outlandish  to  posterity, 
just  as  the  scholastic  dialect  looks  to  our  eyes ;  but  then, 
as  now,  he  who  studies  the  pages  of  Dante  shall  learn  the 
most  important  of  lessons,  come  F  nom  s  etenid, — how 
man  makes  his  life  eternal,  by  mastei-ing  the  appetites  of 
the  flesh,  by  denying  self,  and  by  cleaving  to  those  ideals 
of  the  spirit  which  neither  wane  nor  die,  but  rise  in  ever- 
widening  spires  towards  the  empyrean  of  all-embracing 
and  immortal  Truth;  the  life  whicli  lifts  man  above  the 
shock  and  accident  and  baseness  of  earthly  existence, 
and  fits  him  to  depart  trustfully,  e(piij)ped  for  the  possi- 
bilities which  eternity  hides. 

"Follow  thou  thy  star,  thou  shalt  not  fail  of  a  glorious 
haven,"*  that  is  I)ant(!*s  counsel  to  all  men;  to  his  coini- 
trymen  he  s})oke  further,  according  to  their  needs.  It  is 
as  a  national  hero  and  an  influence,  rather  than  as  a  poet, 

'    Injirtm,  xv.  '>'),  ;")(!. 


66  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

that  he  should  be  treated  by  the  historian  of  modern 
Italy.  Not  only  was  he  "the  Father  of  the  Tuscan 
tongue,"  but  he  was  also  the  prophet  of  an  Italy  in  which 
the  cruelty  and  corruption  of  tyrants  should  cease,  of  an 
Italy  in  which,  under  one  wise  and  just  ruler,  the  cities 
of  the  hills  and  the  cities  of  the  plain  and  the  sea  should 
live  in  peace  and  mutual  helpfulness.  Dante  did  not, 
indeed,  dream  of  a  nation  independent  of  the  Empire, 
but  he  pleaded  for  a  united  nation,  having  its  own  laws 
and  governors,  guided  and  protected  by  the  Emperor. 
And,  what  was  most  important,  he  denounced  the  tem- 
poral covetousness  of  the  Papacy  as  unholy;  he  de- 
nounced the  Decretals,  not  because  they  were  forged,  — 
that  was  not  known  in  his  time,  —  but  because  they  de- 
graded the  Church,  by  converting  it  into  a  monster  of 
simony  and  worldliness;  he  denounced  the  irreverence  of 
placing  Tradition  on  an  equality  with  the  Scriptures :  he 
denounced  the  lewdness  and  pride  of  those  who,  sitting  in 
the  chair  of  St.  Peter  and  representing  Christ  on  earth, 
forsook  things  spiritual  for  things  carnal,  and  used  their 
sacred  office  as  a  net  wherewith  to  catch  the  bribes  of 
Mammon  or  as  a  cloak  to  hide  their  profligate  lives. 
Graven  ineffaceably  in  Dante's  epic  was  this  truth,  reit- 
erated by  every  sage  and  every  prophet,  that  wealth  and 
power,  which  minister  to  the  desires  of  the  senses,  poison 
and  pervert  the  spirit.  This  truth,  easily  verifiable  in 
the  case  of  each  particular  soul,  Dante  applied  to  the 
Church,  the  universal  soul  of  Christendom.  He  cried 
out  against  pastors  who  turned  their  shepherd's  crooks 
into  swords,  and  who  through  avarice  had  become  as 
wolves.  In  the  circle  of  Hell  where  sinioniacs  are  pun- 
ished, he  placed  Nicholas  III,  and  rebuked  him  and  all 
Popes  like  him:  "Ye  have  made  you  a  god  of  gold  and 
silver:  and  what  difference  is  there  betw^een  you  and 
the  idolater  save  that  he  worships  one  and  ye  a  hundred  ? 
Ah,  Constantine  I  of  how  much  ill  was  mother,  not  thv 


DANTE.  57 

conversion,  but  that  dowry  which  the  first  rich  Father 
received  from  thee!  "  ^ 

So  unerring  was  Dante's  moral  sense  that  hardly  one 
of  the  judgments  pronounced  by  him  have  been  set  aside. 
In  so  far  as  he  believed  that  the  government  of  the  world 
by  one  spiritual  and  one  temporal  sovereign  was  still  pos- 
sible, he  was  the  spokesman  of  the  highest  mediaeval 
ideal;  but  in  declaring  that  Church  and  State  must  be 
independent,  and  that  the  Pope  defiled  his  spiritual  func- 
tions in  usurping  the  prerogatives  of  the  Emperor,  Dante 
was  the  forerunner  of  the  wisest  statesmen  and  purest 
moralists  of  modern  times.  And  thus  his  "Divine  Com- 
edy "  became  to  his  countrymen  a  political  Bible,  in  which 
they  learned  the  cause  of  their  evils  and  the  remedies  for 
them.  It  was  so  mighty  a  book  that  neither  Popes  nor 
tyrants  nor  inquisitors  could  suppress  it.  It  was  the  de- 
light of  the  scholar  and  the  comfort  of  the  patriot;  to  the 
earnest  it  brought  wisdom  which  "is  conversant  with  the 
mysteries  of  the  knowledge  of  God."  Its  jjhrases  became 
household  words,  and  dignified  the  speech  of  peasants. 
No  other  book,  except  the  Bible  in  Protestant  countries, 
has  so  completely  saturated  the  thoughts  of  a  whole  peo- 
ple. Wherever  it  was  read,  there  were  heard,  as  if  issu- 
ing from  a  holy  oracle,  condemnation  of  the  hate  and 
jealousy  which  kept  Italians  asunder,  and  of  ])rinees  wlio 
strangled  liberty,  and  that  awful  judgment  on  Popes  who 
made  their  holy  offices  like  to  the  scarlet  woman  ])i'()phe- 
sied  in  the  Apocalypse,  "th«i  habitation  of  devils,  and  tlie 
hold  of  every  foul  spirit,  and  a  cage  of  every  unclean  and 
hateful  bird:  for  all  nations  have  drunk  of  the  wine  of 
the  wrath  of  her  fornication,  and  the  kings  of  the  eaitli 
have  connnitted  fornication  with  her,  and  the  mercliants 
of  tlie  earth  are  waxed  rich  through  the  abundance  of  her 
delicacies."'-^ 

'   Inferno,  xix.  1 1'-'-l  IT.  Norton's  traiLsliition. 
'■^  li(  vfltili'iii    xviii,  2,  '■). 


68  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

"The  Divine  Comedy  "  became  a  Bible  for  the  Italians : 
by  that  fact  we  measure  the  majesty  and  the  wisdom  and 
the  truthfulness  of  the  man.  So  firm  was  his  integrity 
and  so  intense  his  spirituality,  that  he  strengthened  and 
purified  whatsoever  souls  came  fully  under  his  influence. 
With  the  vehemence  of  Paul,  he  had  the  catholicity  of 
Shakespeare.  Men  call  him  a  Ghibelline,  or  a  White, 
to  specify  certain  phases  of  his  activity,  as  they  give 
names  to  the  bays  and  inlets  of  the  ocean ;  but  his  nature 
overflowed  the  coast-line  of  partisanship.  During  five 
centuries,  wherever  there  was  an  Italian  who  amid  civil 
discords  longed  for  harmony  and  under  oppression  longed 
for  freedom,  and  who,  despite  the  pettiness  and  abomina- 
tions of  his  time,  still  kept  his  soul  pure  and  his  aims 
high,  there  was  found  a  disciple  of  Dante.  The  patriot, 
languishing  in  some  Austrian  dungeon,  or  wandering  in 
exile  along  the  banks  of  the  Thames  or  the  La  Plata,  re- 
freshed his  fortitude  by  the  words  and  example  of  that 
other  exile  who  had  tasted  "the  salt  bread  of  strangers" 
and  abandoned  "everything  beloved,"  and  who  yet  had 
exclaimed,  "Can  I  not  from  any  corner  of  the  earth  be- 
hold the  sun  and  stars  ?  Can  I  not  everywhere  under  the 
heavens  meditate  the  all-sweet  truths,  except  I  first  make 
myself  ignoble  ?  "  ^  And  the  statesman  who  was  to  achieve 
the  independence  and  unification  of  Italy  only  summed  up 
the  policy  of  Dante  in  that  phrase  forever  memorable, 
"A  free  Church  in  a  free  State." 

Thus  briefly  must  we  speak  —  and  on  this  subject 
much  would  be  little  —  concerning  the  unique  position 
of  Dante  in  the  literature  of  Europe  and  in  the  liistory 
of  Italy,  because  it  is  more  important  to  understand  him 
than  to  know  by  heart  the  brawls  and  revolutions  which 
tormented  Italy  from  the  twelfth  to  the  sixteenth  century. 
His  influence  flows,  like  the  Nile,  through  each  later  age, 
ready  to  fertilize  the  souls  of  men.     At  times,  his  coun- 

^  Letter  to  a  Florentine  Friend  (Epistolxe,  x). 


DANTE.  59 

trymen,  like  modern  Egyptians,  have  gazed  blankly  at 
the  mighty  current;  at  times  they  have  drawn  life-giving 
water  from  it.  And  the  river  has  flowed  on,  majestic 
and  too  deep  for  noise,  bearing  with  it  a  force  capable  of 
regenerating  a  nation,  and  forming  not  only  an  nnbroken 
connection  between  the  past  and  the  present,  but  also  the 
one  bond  of  union,  the  one  common  object  of  reverent 
admiration  for  the  divided  and  factious  Italians. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE   RENAISSANCE. 

Dante  came,  indeed,  at  the  critical  moment.  Fifty 
years  later  his  faith  must  have  been  less  complete,  his 
statecraft  less  certain.  For  then,  instead  of  expressing 
the  ideals  of  Catholicism  and  of  mediaeval  Imperialism  in 
their  purity,  he  would  have  been  troubled  by  the  stirring 
of  new  influences,  whose  touch  could  not  be  resisted  though 
their  import  was  not  yet  clear.  He  would  have  seen  that 
the  Empire,  to  which  he  appealed  as  the  universal  peace- 
maker, having  hopelessly  lost  its  universality,  was  shrunk 
to  be  merely  the  appanage  of  a  German  prince ;  he  would 
have  seen  the  Church,  no  longer  one  and  catholic,  but 
split  by  a  schism  from  which  she  never  truly  recovered ; 
he  would  have  seen  the  glory  of  free  Florence  already  past 
meridian,  and  her  liberty  handed  over  to  a  foreign  lord; 
he  would  have  seen  the  other  Italian  republics,  exhausted 
by  feuds,  fall  into  the  clutches  of  cruel,  selfish  despots ; 
above  all,  he  would  have  felt  the  first  exhilaration  of  Hu- 
manism, of  that  revival  of  learning  which  truly  deserves 
the  name  New  Birth,  because  the  souls  of  men  were  born 
anew  into  a  life  of  liberty  and  reason,  through  the  redis- 
covery of  the  old  learning. 

We  have  so  long  enjoyed  the  results  of  this  spiritual 
revolution  that  we  can  hardly  realize  the  enthusiasm,  the 
wonder  and  delight,  which  swept  through  the  hearts  of 
those  who  first  felt  its  stress.  You  who  have  known  the 
divine  fervor  of  a  love  deep,  pure,  and  irresistible, —  wlien 
the  old  self  drops  away  like  a  clod  from  the  soul,  and  the 
world  dances  in  gladness,  and  hope  is  infinite,  and  being 


THE   RENAISSANCE.  61 

is  suffused  with  the  radiance  and  tenderness  of  one  Be- 
loved, —  you  who  have  known  this  ecstasy  of  passion  may 
perhaps  understand  the  revelation  which  captivated  and 
transformed  the  early  Humanists.  To  these  there  came, 
as  from  the  heaven  of  Truth,  an  angel,  a  messenger,  with 
tidings  of  great  joy. 

"You  have  wandered  far,"  said  the  Angel:  "you  have 
been  misled  by  false  guides.  That  Promised  Land,  that 
Happy  Country  for  which  you  yearn,  lies  not  before,  but 
behind  you.  Wearied  by  your  march,  cast  down  by  the 
cheerlessness  of  the  desert  you  have  traversed,  you  have 
sought  peace  where  it  cannot  be  found.  You  have  shut 
yourselves  up  in  cloistered  cells,  and  lo!  joy  was  not 
there.  You  have  worshiped  phantoms  of  terror,  and  lo! 
they  could  not  soothe  your  dread.  The  cobwebs  of  the- 
ology, spun  athwart  your  window,  have  shut  out  the 
light.  You  have  called  yourselves  the  children  of  (iod, 
yet  have  you  fled  from  yourselves  as  from  (a-eatures  ac- 
curst. You  have  fixed  your  eyes  on  a  life  hereafter ;  to 
purchase  that  you  sell  this  life,  and  postpone  for  a  little 
while  the  enjoyment  of  those  pleasures  you  covet  now. 
As  if  God  were  a  broker  or  a  bailiff !  The  religion  you 
profess  does  not  comfort  you:  in  the  devout  it  breeds 
sickly  foreboding  and  selfish  piety;  it  connives  at  tlie 
sanctimoniousness  of  hypocrites;  it  stupefies  the  ignorant 
with  superstitions;  it  restrains  not  the  violent;  it  neither 
deters  the  wicked,  nor  touches  the  indifferent,  nor  protects 
the  weak.  You  have  been  tanglit  that  to  he  saved  you 
nuist  become  like  clowns  and  fi-ightened  children;  and 
having  dwindh'd  to  their  stature,  heaven  seems  farther 
from  you  than  evei-  bc^fore. 

"But  I  bring  you  tidings  of  men  who,  living  in  the 
morning  of  the  worhl,  looked  ni)on  the  earth  and  saw  that 
it  was  fair;  of  men  who  crouched  not  in  shivish  woiship 
of  terror,  nor  (lecine<l  it  ludawful  to  enjoy  tlie  largess  of 
the   gods.      Tiiey   opened    windows   in    all    si(U's  ot    their 


62  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

dwelling,  and  Beauty  greeted  them  wherever  they  gazed. 
They  made  no  cage  for  their  mind,  but  they  bade  it  soar 
through  the  £ether,  believing  that  it  could  never  outfly  the 
boundless  expanses  which  the  Divine  Planner  had  created, 
nor  alight  on  any  perch  His  fingers  had  not  made.  They 
did  not  cramp  their  powers,  nor  mutilate  their  faculties; 
they  found  health  in  the  full  use  of  all  their  gifts,  and 
they  learned  that  were  their  endowment  an  hundred-fold 
richer,  it  would  not  suffice  to  drain  the  source  of  joy. 
They  were  strong,  and  heroic  were  their  deeds.  They 
were  wise,  and  cherishing  Nature  they  learned  her  se- 
crets, in  order  that,  allied  with  her  laws,  they  might  con- 
firm their  footsteps  and  perpetuate  their  existence  on  the 
earth.  They  envisaged  death  without  shrinking,  and  if 
they  looked  to  an  Elysian  life  beyond,  it  was  because  they 
had  felt,  more  deeply  than  other  men,  that  the  life  here 
maybe  elysian  and  divine.  Emulate  them.  Learn  from 
them  the  wonder  and  beauty  and  joy  of  living.  Learn 
from  them  to  realize  one  world  at  a  time." 

In  this  wise  spake  the  Spirit,  and  it  was  as  if  a  stran- 
ger should  come  to  a  community  of  aged  folk,  interned 
in  a  cheerless  valley,  and  should  tell  them  that  just  across 
the  mountains  lay  a  plain  full  of  verdure  and  sunshine, 
amid  which  gushed  the  Fountain  of  Perpetual  Youth. 
The  best  minds  of  Italy  were  aroused,  and  before  a  gen- 
eration had  passed,  they  were  engaged  with  an  eagerness 
never  before  devoted  to  learning,  upon  the  collection  and 
interpretation  of  that  classical  literature  which  they  be- 
lieved contained  the  precious  gospel.  And  immeasur- 
able were  the  results  to  which  that  movement  led;  for 
mankind,  like  Antieus,  gathers  fresh  vigor  from  every 
contact  with  Nature,  and  till  now,  for  more  than  a  thou- 
sand years,  mankind  had  ignored  Nature. 

The  Renaissance  liberated  the  intelligence  and  rein- 
stated reason;  it  was,  as  Michelet  has  tersely  expressed 
it,  the  discovery  of  man  and  the  discovery  of  the  world. 


THE  rena;ssance.  63 

That  theological  conception  of  both  which  had  grown 
up  during  the  Dark  and  Middle  Ages,  and  which,  the 
Church  insisted,  embraced  all  ti'uth,  was  now  seen  to 
have  no  basis  in  fact,  being  but  a  nightmare  spawned  by 
ascetic  brains.  The  Renaissance  proved  the  continuity  of 
human  development,  —  a  view  condemned  as  sacrilegious 
by  dogmatists,  who  had  asserted  that  a  great  and  impass- 
able gulf  rolled  between  those  who  lived  before  Christ  and 
those  who,  born  since  his  time  and  believing  on  him,  were 
ransomed  from  everlasting  punishment  by  his  sacrifice. 
This  narrow  and  abominable  creed,  which  set  apart  a 
little  flock  of  the  elect  and  doomed  the  majority  of  the  race 
to  perdition,  inevitably  exalted  faith  above  conduct  and 
struck  at  the  roots  of  virtue  by  assiuning  that  the  good- 
ness of  the  best  of  the  ancients  was  of  no  avail,  whereas 
the  wickedest  of  moderns  could  from  his  deatlibed  sneak 
into  heaven  by  acknowledging  Christ.  As  if  the  moral 
laws  were  not  eternal,  but  were  first  invented  when 
Christ,  their  ])ure  exemplar,  walked  among  men  in  the 
reign  of  Tiberius  I  as  if  the  (xreek  or  Hindoo  who  had 
ordered  his  life  by  them  could  fail  to  be  spiritualized 
by  them  I  Error  is  nevertheless  error,  be  it  maintained 
by  Jew  or  by  Gentile,  and  charity  is  charity,  wliether  it 
sweetens  the  heart  of  Samaritan  or  of  Parsce.  To  this 
sense  of  the  unity  and  continuity  of  mankind  the  Human- 
ists gradually  rose. 

As  long  as  Catholicism  was  the  only  system,  who  could 
say  tliat  it  was  not  the  best?  But  wlicu  the  revival  of 
the  study  of  antiquity  introduced  another  standard,  so- 
called  pagan,  Catholicism  could  l)e  compared  with  it,  — 
and  comparison  is  the  mother  of  criticism.  The  intel- 
lect, after  its  long  servitude  to  tyrant  dogmas,  rioted  in 
its  freedom  and  ran  to  the  extreme  of  indiscriminately 
despising  everytliing  Catholic  and  of  ap])r()ving  every- 
thing Classic. 

In  its  intent,  however,  the  lieuaissancc  was  not  a  rcli- 


64  THE    DAWN   OF  ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

gious  revolution,  like  its  scion  the  Reformation ;  it  was 
an  intellectual  solvent.  Men  plunged  eagerly  into  the 
newly -discovered  sea  and  brought  up  pearls  which  they 
esteemed  more  precious  than  any  gems  in  kingly  crown  or 
papal  tiara.  Little  suspecting  whither  the  new  impulse 
was  leading  them,  the  highest  dignitaries  of  the  Church 
joined  with  the  humblest  lay  scholars  in  pursuit  of  the 
antique  ideal.  To  possess  a  classic  manuscript,  or  to  be 
the  patron  of  a  noted  Humanist,  made  the  reputation  of 
a  bishop ;  monks  rummaged  their  archives  for  long-for- 
gotten books ;  the  recovery  of  a  Greek  tragedy  or  of  one 
of  Cicero's  orations  was  hailed  throughout  Christendom 
as  an  incalculable  benefit;  copies  of  the  classics  were 
worth  a  prince's  ransom;  and  Pope  Nicholas  V,  in  the 
middle  of  the  fifteenth  century,  accounted  it  his  proudest 
glory  to  be  the  promoter  of  that  revived  paganism  which 
consorted  strangely  with  the  Church  whose  crown  he 
wore. 

The  Italian  intellect  had  at  last  its  liberty,  but  this 
intellectual  deliverance  coincided  with  the  complete  polit- 
ical servitude  of  Italy.  The  restless  republics  were  no 
longer  free.  Each  had  fallen  into  the  control  of  a  power- 
ful family  which  strove  to  perpetuate  its  dynasty.  The 
cry  was  no  more  "Guelf  against  Ghibelline,"  but  "Vis- 
conti  against  Sforza,"  or  "Medici  against  Pazzi."  First 
tyrants  of  the  strong  arm ;  then  tyrants  of  the  long  purse. 
Even  Genoa  and  Venice,  which  retained  the  semblance  of 
republics,  were  bound  under  the  tyranny  of  small  oligar- 
chies. From  the  fourteenth  centurj^  citizens  no  longer 
fought  for  their  rights,  or  for  revenge,  they  hired  merce- 
naries to  fight  for  them ;  war  itself  became  a  commercial 
transaction,  and  the  despot  who  paid  best,  secured  the 
ablest  condotticre  and  the  most  troops.  Then  began  that 
shame  of  Switzerland,  —  the  leasing  of  her  freemen  to 
crush  the  efforts  of  ])eoples  who  strove  against  their  mas- 
ters.     Shame  indeed,  — ■  which  has  been  branded  on  every 


THE   RENAISSANCE.  66 

language  of  Europe,  where  the  word  Swiss  means  not 
only  the  dwellers  among  the  Alps,  but  also  the  hirelings 
ever  ready  to  sell  their  valor  to  the  highest  bidder, 
whether  he  were  the  autocrat  of  the  Tuileries  or  of  the 
Vatican.  The  employment  of  mercenaries  indicates  a 
decline  in  patriotism ;  it  is  the  sure  forerunner  of  servi- 
tude. In  Italy,  as  we  have  seen,  patriotism  had  never 
been  national,  but  always  intensely  local.  The  Floren- 
tine, for  instance,  fought  heroically  for  Florence  when  a 
rival,  like  Pisa  or  Siena,  attacked  her,  but  at  home,  his 
devotion  to  faction  was  stronger  than  his  devotion  to  the 
State;  and  like  the  Florentine  were  the  other  Italians. 
Whereas  the  tyrant,  who  usiuilly  owed  his  power  to  a 
partisan  triumph,  kept  it  l)y  stimulating  civic  vanity;  he 
would  have  it  believed  that  works  whereby  the  strength  and 
lustre  of  his  house  were  increased  were  really  intended 
for  the  glory  of  the  commonwealtli.  IIow  adroit  they 
were,  tliose  tyrants  I  IIow  thoroughly  tliey  miderstood  all 
the  wiles  by  which  a  liigh-spirited  and  suspicious  peojde 
could  be  brought  almost  unawares  uiuler  the  yoke !  Tlie 
vulgar  tricks  —  the  panem  et  citTrnsfS—hj  wliich  the 
imperial  tyrants  had  amused  and  lulled  the  Konum  l)<)p- 
ulace  could  not  have  lured  the  intellectual  Tuscans;  for 
them  the  decoy  must  be  more  s})iritual  and  u\ovi\  cinining. 
So  tlie  tyrants  of  the  Henaissance  encouraged  Humanism 
in  all  its  forms.  They  drew  round  tliemsclves  whosoev^n* 
was  eminent  in  letters  or  in  art.  At  their  courts,  the 
manifold  genius  of  Italy  had  full  play  to  express  itself  in 
everything,  except  in  govermnent.  Outside  of  this  res- 
ervation, the  ])oet,  painter,  or  scholar  was  free.  He  was 
extolled;  lie  was  almost  deified.  Pi-inces  vied  witli  each 
other  to  secure  his  services;  they  were  ready  to  go  to  war 
over  him.  The  spirit  of  ai't,  which  (|uickened  Italy  from 
the  fourteenth  to  the  sixteenth  century,  })oured  forth  ini- 
])erishable  works,  and  the  lords  of  the  cities  shone  in  the 
li<rht  reflected  from  those  works.     MeJi  almost  forgot  that 


66  THE   DAWN    OF   ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

Florence  was  politically  enslaved,  in  their  admiration  for 
Lorenzo  the  Magnificent.  He  a  tyrant?  Why,  at  his 
symposia  at  Cajano  you  might  hear  him  discourse  as 
comrade  and  equal  with  Pico  and  Politian  and  the  strip- 
ling Buonarotti !  So  at  night  the  few  bright  stars  impress 
us  more  than  do  the  vast  starless  spaces. 

These  despots  were  so  friendly  to  the  blossoming  talents 
of  the  Renaissance  that  some  later  critics  have  asserted 
that  only  under  similar  conditions  can  the  highest  arts 
attain  full  growth,  and  that  the  glorious  result  was  well 
worth  the  price  paid  for  it,  —  jjolitical  freedom.  But  this 
inference  is  false,  because  it  is  drawn  from  too  short  a 
retrospect  of  those  causes  which  prepared  the  Italians  to 
be  masters  in  art.  It  was  in  the  earlier  days  of  liberty, 
in  the  strife  and  competition  of  politics,  in  the  liberalizing 
activity  of  commerce,  in  the  spiritualizing  influence  of 
faith,  that  the  Italian  nature  got  its  keenness,  vigor,  inten- 
sity and  breadth,  —  the  very  qualities  which  prepared  it 
for  Humanism.  Luxury  and  licentiousness  can  never 
originate  great  works  of  art;  at  most,  they  can  but 
patronize  great  artists,  who  unconsciously  derive  their 
powers  from  a  spiritual  fund  bequeathed  to  them  by 
ancestors  endowed  with  qualities  which  luxury  does  most 
to  destroy.  The  splendid  achievements  mistakenly  as- 
signed to  the  patronage  of  Lorenzo,  and  Julius  II  and 
Leo  X,  bear  witness  to  a  bygone  integrity,  without 
which  the  reigns  of  those  princes  would  have  been  as 
barren  of  artistic  glory  as  was  the  reign  of  any  Byzan- 
tine voluptuary. 

The  Italian  genius,  prevented  by  local  conditions  from 
pouring  itself  out  in  permanent  free  institutions,  flowed 
all  the  more  impetuously  througli  the  sluices  which  were 
open.  The  vision  of  beauty  and  of  the  hoard  of  know- 
ledge captivated  and  for  a  time  absorbed  a  race  which 
had  been  tormented  by  fierce  and  inconclusive  quarrels ; 
and  the  tyrants  under  whose  dominion  these  men   fell 


THE   RENAISSANCE.  67 

shrewdly  fostered  pursuits  which  diverted  attention 
from  lost  liberty,  and  which  clothed  tyranny  itself  in  gor- 
geous robes.  And  thus  the  Renaissance  —  Italy's  most 
precious  gift  to  the  modern  world  —  failed  to  bring  last- 
ing benefit  to  the  Italians,  —  the  only  modern  people 
from  whom  that  movement  could  have  originated,  or  by 
whom  it  could  have  been  nurtured :  not  from  this  failure, 
however,  should  we  argue  that  the  Renaissance  was  bad, 
nor  that  the  efflorescence  of  the  noble  arts  must  necessa- 
rily be  accompanied  by  a  decay  of  character  or  liberty. 

The  fifteenth  century,  in*  which  the  Renaissance  rose 
almost  to  its  zenith  in  Italy,  is  in  many  respects  the  most 
important  of  the  Christian  era,  unless  posterity  shall 
assign  that  distinction  to  our  own  century.  It  witnessed 
the  close  of  many  old  influences  and  the  beginning  of 
many  new  ones  which  have  slowly  remodeled  the  civil- 
ized world.  Among  its  momentous  achievements  were 
the  voyages  of  Columbus  to  America  and  of  the  Portu- 
guese to  India,  which  not  only  revealed  the  sphericity  and 
therefore  the  extent  of  the  earth,  but  also  threw  open 
new  continents  to  the  enterprise  and  greed  of  Europeans. 
And  just  as  Columbus  by  his  voyage  westward  dispelled 
ignorance  concerning  man's  terrestrial  home,  so  Coper- 
nicus, navigating  in  thought  the  celestial  spaces,  ascer- 
tained that  our  globe  and  her  sister  planets  revolve  al)out 
the  sun,  and  he  surmised,  further,  that  the  solar  system 
itself  is  but  one  among  innumerable  stellar  families,  of 
which  each  star  is  the  parent.  This  discovery  is  the  most 
profound  that  Science  has  ever  made,  if  we  judge  it,  as 
we  should  judge  it,  by  the  conclusions  siibse(jueiitly  de- 
duced from  it  concerning  the  ])ositioii  of  tlie  earth  in  the 
universe  and  of  man's  destiny  on  the  earth;  for  it  has 
swept  away  th(!  Ptolemaic  ei-roi-s  on  wliich  dogmatic  Chris- 
tianity had  elaborated  its  assunijitions,  and  it  lias  shown 
the  earth  to  'oe,  not  the  centie  of  creation,  l)nt  a  tinv  l)all 
encii'cled    bv   mvriads    of    orbs    inconceivablv   vast.      As 


68  THE   DAWN   OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

there  is  but  one  cosmos,  these  revelations  due  to  the  for- 
titude of  Coluuibus  and  to  the  imagination  of  Copernicus 
can  never  be  repeated,  and  Science  since  their  time  has 
but  formulated  the  laws  of  the  material  world  and  of 
organic  life,  to  which  they  furnished  the  clue. 

These  were  the  two  supreme  achievements  of  fifteenth 
century  men :  but  there  were  many  others,  almost  equally 
remarkable,  whose  effect  was  felt  at  once.  There  were 
those  great  agents  of  equality,  the  invention  of  printing 
and  the  introduction  of  gunpowder :  the  former  brought 
the  best  thoughts  of  all  tim^s  into  the  reach  of  every 
reader,  thus  breaking  up  the  little  aristocracy  of  learn- 
ing; the  latter  leveled  the  disparity  between  knight  and 
foot-soldier,  by  supplying  the  weak  with  a  weapon  which 
made  him  the  peer  of  the  strong,  thus  shattering  a  mili- 
tary system  based  on  bodily  force.  In  politics,  there 
was  the  crystallization  of  Western  Europe  into  those  units 
which  have  existed,  in  spite  of  temporary  variation,  down 
to  the  present  day.  England,  having  abandoned  the  long 
struggle  to  maintain  her  sway  over  part  of  France,  and 
having  healed  her  internal  dissensions  between  the  Houses 
of  York  and  Lancaster,  became  a  compact  nation. 
France,  likewise,  being  rid  of  English  interference,  and 
having  defeated  her  most  dangerous  vassal,  the  Duke 
of  Burgundy,  began  her  independent  career.  In  Spain, 
the  union  of  the  crowns  of  Castile  and  Aragon  pro- 
duced a  strong  monarchy,  destined  in  the  next  century 
to  take  the  lead  in  Europe.  All  these  kingdoms  were 
ostensibly  dynastic,  but  the  dynasty  in  each  derived  its 
]iower  from  the  fact  that  it  had  a  coherent  nation  behind 
it.  And  now  kings  began  to  claim  that  they  ruled  by 
"divine  right,"  —  a  claim  originally  asserted  by  the  Em- 
peror to  offset  the  pretensions  of  the  Pope.  In  Ger- 
many, the  Empire  took  on  irrevocably  the  character  of  a 
local  sovereignty  hereditary  in  the  House  of  Hapsburg, 
while  half  a  score  of  small  piincedoms  were  independent 


THE   RENAISSANCE.  69 

of  it  in  all  but  name.  Hungary  reached  her  highest 
renown  under  John  Hunyadi  and  Matthias  Corvinus; 
Bohemia  made  a  magnificent  effort  to  secure  a  ])lace 
among  progressive  and  free  States;  and  the  kings  of 
Mviscovy,  by  conquering  some  of  their  neighbors  and  by 
shaking  off  the  Turkish  yoke  in  the  South,  laid  the 
foundation  for  the  vast  Empire  of  modern  Russia.  Th  * 
Mahometans  quenched  the  Byzantine  Empire  and  estab- 
lished themselves  in  Constantinople ;  but  their  advent  in 
Eastern  Europe  was  soon  followed  by  the  expulsion  of 
the  Saracens  from  Spain.  Throughout  Italy,  principali- 
ties and  duchies  were  erected  on  the  ruins  of  spent  repub- 
lics. The  Papacy,  returning  from  its  exile  at  Avignon, 
made  Rome  once  more  the  central  city  of  Christendom, 
and  assumed  definitively  the  role  of  a  temporal  power, 
astute  and  unscrupidous  in  its  political  methods,  and 
often  shockingly  corrupt  in  its  morals.  Tlic  xniity  of  tlie 
Church  was  disturbed  by  a  schism  only  less  fatal  than 
that  of  the  Reformation  to  its  pretensions  of  catholicity. 
The  revolt  of  the  Bohemians,  one  of  the  noblest  of 
religious  movements,  but  not  yet  adequately  esteemed; 
the  persecution  of  the  Lollards  in  England;  the  first 
whisperings  of  Luther's  forerunners  in  Germany ;  the 
effort  of  Savonarola  to  regenci-ate  Florence  while  a  Bor- 
gian  Pope  was  bestializing  Rome ;  the  founding  of  the 
Inquisition ;  —  tliese  are  some  of  tlie  religious  symptoms 
and  prognostics  of  that  prolific  century. 

Add  to  all  these  the  fact  that  tlie  Renaissance  was 
sweeping  like  a  vernal  infiueucc  through  every  part  of 
the  Italian  intellcH-t,  quickening  knowlcdgi',  thawing  the 
frosts  of  dogma,  dro])])ing  the  |)(tllcn  of  new  hope,  and 
cherishing  the  buds  of  Art  and  Poetry,  whilst  over  out- 
ward Nature  it  breathed  an  atuiospiiere  mispeakahly 
enchanting,  and  you  will  understand  in  some  measure 
the  marvels  of  that  time,  'riun  originated  ciitieisni  and 
that  curiosity  which  tests  with   the  fiame  of  reason  everv 


70  THE   DAWN   OF    ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

phenomenon  of  life.  Then  was  couched  the  cataract 
which  dogma  had  spun,  fihn  on  fihn,  across  the  vision  of 
man ;  he  groped  no  longer  purblind,  but  looked  at  each 
object  point-blank  and  asked  its  meaning.  He  was 
skeptical  of  the  old  explanations,  but  his  was  the  skepti- 
cism which  stimidates  research,  in  the  belief  that  a  final 
and  satisfactory  answer  can  be  wrested  from  the  taciturn 
gods,  and  not  the  skepticism  of  those  who,  having  found 
every  avenue  of  knowledge  end  at  the  foot  of  a  precipice, 
cry  out  in  despair  that  there  is  no  thoroughfare.  To 
the  man  of  the  fifteenth  century  all  seemed  discoverable : 
he  had  found  the  key  to  the  door  of  the  Temple  of  Life, 
and  as  he  crossed  the  threshold  an  immense  hope  thrilled 
him.  Possibly,  possibly  he  might  discover  within  the 
answers  to  those  immemorial  secrets,  —  human  origin  and 
destiny,  and  the  principle  of  being;  possibly  he  might  in 
that  holy  of  holies  stand  face  to  face  with  God!  The 
quest  was  irresistibly  enticing:  men  set  forth  on  it  as 
enthusiastically  as  their  fathers  had  set  forth  on  the 
Crusades ;  but  now  the  universe,  and  not  an  empty  sepul- 
chre, was  to  be  won.  The  Church  encouraged  her  priests 
and  prelates  to  be  among  the  pioneers,  and  only  when  she 
saw  that  Humanism  menaced  her  very  existence  did  she 
cry  halt ;  but  it  was  long  before  she  was  obeyed,  even  in 
outward  acts  of  conformity.  For  then  it  was  that  Nicholas 
V  and  Pius  II,  both  intoxicated  with  the  new  paganism, 
derived  more  glory  from  their  patronage  of  the  classic 
revival  than  from  their  triple  mitre.  Then  it  was  that 
Brunelleschi,  Ghiberti,  and  Donatello,  Masaccio,  Fra 
Angelico,  the  Bellini,  Carpaccio,  Lippi,  and  Botticelli 
made  the  arts  once  more  the  interpreters  of  the  soul ;  when 
Leonardo  da  Vinci,  endowed  with  nearly  every  faculty, 
and  each  a  master's,  attained  his  prime;  when  the  court 
of  Alfonso  was  renowned  at  Naples,  when  the  Medici 
gave  Florence  splendor  in  lieu  of  freedom,  and  the  Vis- 
conti  made  Milan  magnificent;  then  it  was  that  Michael 


THE   RENAISSANCE.  71 

Angelo,  Raphael,  Titian,  and  Giorgione  were  born  in 
Italy,  and  when,  beyond  the  Alps,  Memling  and  Van 
Eyck  flourished,  and  Diirer  and  Holliein  were  born; 
when  Luther  and  Erasmus  grew  up  in  Germany,  and 
Rabelais,  who  was  to  paint  with  sardonic  humor  the  para- 
doxes of  the  new  age,  passed  from  boyhood  to  youth  in 
France.  Verily,  a  marvelous  century  I  And  how  many 
of  the  names  by  which  we  refer  to  it  were  Italian ! 


CHAPTER  VII. 

REACTION    AND   DECLINE. 

The  century  which  followed  brought  only  disaster  to 
Italy,  —  disaster  embittered  by  the  remorse  which  comes 
with  the  knowledge  that  the  humiliation  has  been  de- 
served, —  humiliation  all  the  deeper  when  conti-asted  with 
the  intellectual  and  jesthetic  superiority  of  the  victims. 
The  genius  of  Italy  supplied  Christendom  with  the  price- 
less agents  of  liberty  and  culture,  —  as  Greece  had  sup- 
plied Rome,  and  Rome  her  Teutonic  conquerors,  —  at  the 
very  time  when  the  Italians  showed  that  they  were  inca- 
pable of  using  liberty,  and  that  culture  without  civic  and 
personal  morals  is  as  the  apples  of  Sodom,  During  the 
Middle  Age,  Italy  had  been  frequently  ravaged  by  the 
expeditions  of  the  German  Emperors,  who  had  at  least 
the  excuse  that  they  came  to  assert  their  titular  right. 
Many  Popes  had  renewed  the  invitation  first  sent  by 
Gregory  III  to  Charles  Martel.  Charles  of  Anjou  had 
established  a  French  dynasty  at  Naples ;  John  of  Bohemia, 
the  Duke  of  Athens,  Ladislaus  of  Hungary,  and  the 
Aragonese  princes,  had  each  left  an  impress  more  or  less 
ephemeral.  But  now,  in  the  sixteenth  century,  Italy 
became  the  prey  of  invaders  w^ho  could  plead  neither 
feudal  rights  nor  an  ill-advised  invitation,  —  imperial 
burglars  and  royal  robbers,  whose  sole  object  was  to 
plunder  the  treasure  which  she  could  amass  but  not  de- 
fend, French  and  German  and  Spaniard  fought  over  the 
booty  they  wrested  from  her,  turning  her  fertile  plains 
into  battlefields,  and  making  her  cities  desolate  with 
pillage  and  slaughter.      Her  riches  and  her  enlightening 


REACTION    AND   DECLINE.  73 

influence  passed  over  Alps  and  beyond  the  sea,  but  for 
her  there  was  joy  no  more.  And  when  the  foreigner 
paused  in  his  cruelty,  the  inveterate  feuds  of  her  native 
tyrants  burst  forth  afresh.  Her  princes  were  no  longer 
of  the  stamp  of  Lorenzo  the  Magnificent,  and  of  Freder- 
ick of  Urbino :  bastard  Medici  were  Dukes  of  Florence ; 
the  Farnese  lorded  it  at  Parma  and  Piacenza;  the  papal 
throne  passed  from  Medici  to  Farnese,  then  to  Caraffa, 
then  to  Borghese.  What  were  the  aims  and  methods  of 
a  tyrant  you  read  in  Machiavelli's  ''Prince."  Perfidy 
and  cunning  were  then  the  highest  qualities  of  the  gov- 
ernor; fawning  and  deceit,  of  the  governed.  Personal 
valor  had  departed;  private  morals,  whether  of  honesty 
in  man  or  chastity  in  woman,  were  not  looked  for.  De- 
bauch produced  now  imbecility  and  now  blood-madness, 
—  a  diabolical  desire  to  kill,  which  waxed  greedier  in 
killing.  The  records  of  almost  any  noble  family  at  that 
period  would  furnish  episodes  more  abominable  than  the 
delirium  of  a  modern  French  novelist  could  invent.^ 
Even  the  virtuous  remnant  held  itself  not  aloof  from  the 
wicked  majority,  —  a  dismal  and  significant  fact.  Pietro 
Aretino,  an  epitome  of  foul  sensuality  and  of  intellectual 
effrontery,  was  the  favorite  of  princes  and  the  comrade 
of  ])oets,  painters,  and  philosophers.  Titian  had  him  for 
an  intimate,  even  Michael  Angelo,  the  austere,  addressed 
him  as  "my  lord  and  brother."'^  In  Benvenuto  Cellini, 
you  have  an  exam})le  as  distinct  and  amazing  as  in  Are- 
tino,—  of  the  sixteenth  century  Italian;  and  in  lago, 
Shakespeare  has  inunortalized  another  comnion  tyi)e. 

Italians  in  their  days  of  l)()n(lage  have   l)een   too  ready 
to  point  to  this  era  as  the  most  splendid   in  their  history. 

'  Eleven  iiieinbei-s  of  the  Medici  finiiily  came  to  violent  ends  between 
lilo")  and  ITiS.").  The  crimes  of  the  Cenci.  of  N'ittoria  Aecoianiboni  and 
otliers,  were  not  exceptional. 

-  liime  e  I'rost'  <Ii  M.  A.  I'lionnidtli  (Milan.  l^L'l).  j).  "J'-M.  Tintmet, 
liowever,  treated  Aretino  as  lie  deserved  ;  see  Kidolii"s  work  on  Venetiau 
Painters. 


74  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

How  they  have  extolled  the  age  of  Leo  the  Tenth  and  of 
the  House  of  Este,  and  forgotten  the  shame  implied  in 
the  supremacy  of  sucli  princes !  The  splendor  was  that 
of  a  burning  edifice,  which  for  a  time  illumines  the  twi- 
light; then  embers  and  flickering  jets  of  flame;  then 
ashes  and  desolation  and  darkness.  Before  the  end  of 
this  century,  every  talent  by  which  Italians  had  pur- 
chased glory  was  spent.  Painting  had  descended  through 
the  stages  of  mannerism,  coarseness,  and  brutality,  to 
ineptitude ;  flourishing  latest  in  Venice,  where  there  was 
still  a  phantom  of  civic  independence,  and  dying  there 
with  Tintoret,  the  last  of  the  masters ;  to  be  revived  now 
and  then  by  some  school  of  eclectics,  who  fumbled  among 
the  works  of  the  dead  for  ornaments  and  inspiration. 
Poetry,  already  become  an  elegant  diversion,  was  silent 
after  Tasso.  Classical  study  was  fossilizing  through  ped- 
antry, or  volatilizing  through  dilettanteism.  Statecraft 
meant  bargaining  with  hravi  and  concocting  poisons. 
The  Renaissance,  the  noblest  regenerative  influence  man 
had  felt  since  the  introduction  of  Christianity,  had  failed 
in  Italy.  The  tidings  of  joy  that  the  Angel  had  brought 
to  the  fourteenth  century  were  now  a  mockery.  Why, 
we  ask,  should  this  be?  Why  should  a  message  of  truth 
and  life  mislead  men  to  error  and  death?  Was  it  not 
because  the  message  of  the  Renaissance  had  been  per- 
verted, just  as  Christianity  itself  had  been  perverted? 
Was  it  not  because  the  Italian  character,  through  lack 
of  moral  and  political  soundness,  coidd  absorb  only  what 
was  intellectual  or  aesthetic  in  that  inspiration?  Under 
the  mediaeval  Church,  the  moral  nature  of  the  Italians 
had  sunk  so  low  that  it  responded  as  little  to  the  best 
ethics  of  paganism  as  to  the  precej)ts  of  Christ.  Through 
superstition  and  terror,  the  Church  could  still  hold  the 
jieasants,  but  over  the  educated  she  was  powerless.  They 
had  Ijefore  them  the  example  of  a  profligate  priesthood, 
to  show  how  completely  holy  functions  can  be  severed 


REACTION    AND    DECLINE.  76 

from  righteous  living.  The  Church  insisted  that  no  mat- 
ter how  vicious  the  priest,  the  offices  performed  by  him 
coukl  not  be  affected;  the  water  was  always  pure,  no 
matter  how  foul  the  vessel  that  held  it.  And  the  Ital- 
ians came  to  look  upon  conduct  as  independent  of  princi- 
ple ;  live  how  they  might,  they  could  buy  indulgences,  at 
the  price  fixed  by  the  Church  auctioneers.  The  revival 
of  classic  learning  appealed,  therefore,  to  their  intellect 
and  not  to  their  morals ;  the  masters  of  Greece  and  Kome 
stimulated  their  artistic  instinct  and  whetted  their  wit, 
but  failed  to  ujdift  their  character;  and  before  long  it 
was  not  /Eschylus  nor  Sophocles,^  not  Plato,  nor  Tacitus, 
nor  Marcus  Aurelius,  to  whom  they  listened,  but  Ovid 
and  Martial  and  Anacreon,  and  those  other  ancients  who 
have  recorded,  and  in  recording  have  gilded,  the  vices  of 
Greece  and  Kome.  And  from  preferring  these  authors, 
it  was  but  a  step  to  imitating  them. 

The  Kenaissance,  then,  had  not  in  Italy  a  firm  moral 
nature  to  build  u})on,  nor  was  there  any  other  command- 
ing motive,  such  as  patriotism,  to  counteract  the  tendency 
to  local  and  personal  selfishness.  Everybody  worked  for 
his  private  glory  and  his  own  gain.  The  intellectual 
liberty  proclaimed  by  the  Renaissance  sank  into  license ; 
individualism  was  exaggerated  to  amazing  pr()})orti()ns ; 
not  character,  but  success,  was  the  object  of  desire,  and 
success  justified  any  baseness,  any  crime.  Self-res{)ect 
and  its  twin  self-control  were  not;  neitlier  was  there  rec- 
ognition of  duty  to  others,  of  a  common  humanity  and 
common  interests,  for  wliich  selfish  desires  nuist  be  re- 
nounced. Where  could  there  be  fellowship  when  each 
man  saw  in  his  fellow  a  rival,  an  enemy,  bent  on  ])ossess- 
ing  the  i)rize  whieli  both  coveted,  whether  that  j)rizc  were 

'  I  recjill  no  Ilciiai.ssaiuu!  iiiastcrjjiece  inspired  l)y  citlicr  of  tlu'sc  trage- 
dians, or  by  Homer.  Tlie  unnatiiial  amours  of  Juj)iter.  the  anties  of 
Hatyrs,  nymphs  and  fauns  of  (h)u))tful  respectability,  supj)ly,  on  the  con- 
trary, the  best  mastoi-s  with  themes. 


76  THE   DAWN   OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

the  tyranny  of  a  city  or  the  favor  of  a  prince,  the  em- 
braces of  a  mistress  or  the  wide-echoing  reports  of  fame? 

The  lesson  of  the  lienaissance  in  Italy  is  plain  to  read. 
The  intellectual  nature  divorced  from  the  moral  nature 
may  burn  never  so  brightly  for  a  time,  but  it  will  surely 
destroy  itself  at  last.  Man  may  build  him  a  palace  of  art 
or  a  treasury  of  knowledge,  and  shut  himself  in  it,  and 
declare  that  here  is  all  he  needs,  that  the  interests  of  his 
fellows  concern  him  not.  But  by  and  by  those  frescoed 
walls  shall  begin  to  contract ;  the  light  of  the  sun  and  the 
voices  of  humanity  shall  enter  no  more ;  the  wretch  shall 
shriek  for  assistance,  but  no  one  shall  hear  him,  and  that 
palace  which  was  the  pride  of  his  selfishness  shall  fall 
upon  him  and  be  his  tomb.  In  nations  not  less  than  in 
men,  the  surety  of  permanence  is  the  blending  of  en- 
lightenment and  integrity,  of  mind  and  soul.  That  is 
not  culture  which  does  not  purify  and  sweeten  conduct, 
embodying  in  fair  deeds  the  beauty  which  delights  the 
spirit.  "The  beautiful  is  higher  than  the  good,  because 
it  includes  the  good,"  — so  runs  Goethe's  maxim:  but, 
alas  for  the  Italians  of  the  Renaissance !  their  beautiful 
included  not  the  good,  and  therefore  their  arts  from 
being  spiritual  became  intellectual,  and  from  intellectual 
they  became  carnal. 

The  sixteenth  century,  which  witnessed  this  culmination 
and  decline  in  Italy,  ushered  in  the  Reformation  beyond 
the  Alps.  The  first  aim  of  the  reformers  was  to  correct 
the  abuses  in  the  Church ;  but  these  were  found  to  be  so 
inveterate  that  it  was  impossible  to  say  which  was  Church 
and  which  abuse.  So  the  Lutherans  organized  a  new 
Church  to  suit  themselves.  By  this  act  they  postulated 
the  right  of  every  person  to  liberty  of  conscience,  the 
chief  boon  of  Protestantism,  although  Protestants  have 
often  been  as  quick  as  Catholics  to  persecute  dissenters. 
As  by  the  revival  of  classical  learning  another  standard 
of  life  had  been  recovered,  by  which  to  judge  Catholicism, 


REACTION    AND    DECLINE.  77 

SO  long  the  only  standard ;  so  by  the  expansion  of  Prot- 
estantism, Eurojie  had  the  benefit  of  a  further  compar- 
ison. We  might  suppose  that  the  Italians,  who  had  been 
the  first  to  welcome  the  Kenaissance,  would  have  been 
eager  to  accept  tlie  Iteformation,  the  offshoot  of  the 
Renaissance;  on  the  contrary,  they  were  scarcely  moved 
by  it,  and  for  these  reasons:  the  educated  Italians  were 
so  debased  that  they  were  indifferent  to  religion ;  there 
were  no  princes  who,  like  many  in  the  North,  espoused 
Protestantism  for  political  reasons ;  and  finally,  when  the 
hierarchy  discovered  that  it  had  something  more  than  a 
monkish  squabble  to  deal  with,  —  that,  in  fact,  the  Ger- 
man movement  threatened  the  overthrow  of  papal  jiower 
at  home  and  abroad, — the  instinct  of  self-preservation 
warned  it  to  reject  compromise  and  to  stamp  out  every 
shoot  of  heresy  on  Italian  soil.  Each  priest,  each  monk 
in  Italy  could  be  relied  upon  to  uphold  the  institution  to 
which  he  owed  his  livelihood ;  the  princes,  many  of  whom 
belonged  to  papal  families,  and  the  aristocracy,  which  was 
copartner  with  the  Church  in  the  enjoyment  of  special 
privileges,  knew  that  the  Church  was  their  best  friend. 
While  in  the  North,  therefore,  political  considerations 
had  far  more  influence  than  is  usiially  acknowledged  in 
deciding  rulers  to  take  up  tlie  popular  religious  reforms 
as  a  means  to  their  personal  advancement,^  there  were 
lacking  in  Italy  both  popular  enthusiasm  and  leaders  to 
direct  it. 

Thus  the  Reformation  saved  the  Papacy  from  complete 
collapse.  Another  century  of  uniiiterrni»te(l  deeay,  such 
as  had  gone  on  between  1-300  and  loOO,  nnist  have  left  it 
moribund.  But  the  a])})ear;inee  of  a  rival  roused  it  to 
make  a  desperate  struggle  for  life.      The    huiuisition  be- 

'  T  noocl  lianlly  refer  to  tlic  motives  for  wliioli  Henry  VIII  threw  over 
Ciitholicisiii  ill  lMif;laiul.  Ivjually  worldly  and  striking  Wius  the  conversion 
of  Sweflei)  to  Protestantism;  seel'.  H.Watson:  Tltf  SwxUsh  Rivulution 
(Boston,  iSSii). 


78  THE   DAWN    OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

came  its  incomparable  instrument  for  detecting  and  pun- 
ishing heretics ;  the  Company  of  Jesus,  composed  of  men 
as  subtle  in  intellect  as  they  were  zealous  in  spirit,  be- 
came its  chief  agent  in  sowing  the  seeds  of  reaction.  At 
the  Council  of  Trent,  Romanism,  like  the  arrogant  but 
fond  Danish  king,  planted  its  throne  on  the  beach  and 
said  to  the  inflowing  tide,  "  Thus  far  shalt  thou  go  and  no 
farther;"  and  even  to-day,  although  the  waves  have 
plainly  swept  in,  engulfing  that  throne  in  their  resistless 
rise,  the  Pope,  from  his  rock  of  refuge  farther  inland,  re- 
peats that  forbiddance  in  tones  just  as  haughty,  and  there 
are  those  who  would  fain  believe  that  the  waters  will 
obey  him.  We  must  not,  however,  deny  to  some  of  the 
promoters  of  the  Catholic  reaction  the  admiration  due  to 
sincerity ;  Loyola  and  Bellarmine  were  as  sincerely  fanat- 
ical as  Calvin  and  Knox,  Bonner  was  as  mercilessly  ear- 
nest as  Cranmer  or  Latimer.  Even  the  Inquisition,  whose 
name  has  become  loathsome  to  the  tongue,  was,  from  the 
Catholic  standpoint,  salutary  in  purpose  and  consistent  in 
method :  for  the  vitalest  concern  to  every  man  is  the  ever- 
lasting welfare  of  his  soul,  and,  once  admitting  that  any 
Church  controls  the  means  to  tliat  welfare,  she  is  in  duty 
bound  to  save  him  from  perdition  by  stretching  him  on 
the  rack,  or  even  by  burning  him,  —  in  order  that  he  may 
not  corrupt  other  souls,  if,  after  long  persviasion,  he  re- 
mains incorrigible.  We  need  waste  no  time  in  explod- 
ing this  theory,  which  is  the  logical  outcome  of  every 
creed  pretending  to  be  infallible,  and  which  once  seemed 
equally  true  to  Puritan  and  Papist ;  we  have  learned  that 
genuine  devoutness  cannot  be  superinduced  by  wrenching 
limbs  asunder,  nor  l)y  any  physical  torture,  and  that 
ideas  cannot  be  destroyed  by  the  fire  which  consumes  the 
body :  to  state  such  beliefs  is  to  refute  them. 

Just  at  this  time,  therefore,  when  the  genius  of  Italy 
was  nearing  the  limit  of  its  superb  artistic  productive- 
ness, when  the  last  spark  of  conununal  liberty  had  been 


REACTION    AND    DECLINE.  79 

quenched,  and  the  moral  sense  was  dullest,  the  Church 
tightened  the  bonds  of  her  authority  over  the  minds  and 
consciences  of  the  Italians.  Her  dogmas  were  more 
formal,  her  rules  more  explicit  than  ever  before;  and 
she  had  agents  more  alert  and  powerful  for  seizing  those 
who  were  suspected,  and  for  punishing  those  convicted  of 
heresy.  As  a  result,  she  secured  a  general  outward  con- 
formity to  her  commands.  Skepticism  and  irreligion  did 
not  cease,  they  merely  ceased  from  openly  avowing  them- 
selves. Among  a  people  where  few  had  deep  moral  con- 
victions, it  was  not  to  be  supposed  that  many  would  jeop- 
ard their  lives  by  proclaiming  themselves  unorthodox; 
martyrdom  seemed  foolish,  when  life  and  the  privilege  of 
free-thinking  could  be  bought  cheap  by  performing  the 
outward  acts  prescribed  by  the  Church.  If  with  })istol 
cocked  you  spring  upon  an  unarmed  man  and  say,  ""  Pro- 
fess what  I  tell  you,  or  die,"  he  will  probably  submit, 
esi)ec'ially  if  he  hapi)ens  to  have  no  belief  which  he  deems 
worth  dying  for. 

Catholicism,  then,  assumed  that  character  in  Italy 
which  it  retained  down  to  the  middle  of  the  present  cen- 
tury. Those  who  believed  it  at  all,  believed  it  bigotedly ; 
the  skeptical  were  either  silent  or  disingenuous.  For 
all  there  was  a  rigid  formality,  which  the  devout  bowed 
to  voluntarily,  the  doubting  as  a  matter  of  prudence. 
Superstition  spread.  Government,  intrusted  to  j)riests, 
or  to  the  ])arasites  of  incapable  tyrants,  became  as  int-tTi- 
cient  as  corrupt.  Nepotism  (jontrolled  tlie  Papacy.  The 
Italian,  debarnul  from  exercising  himself  in  civic  affairs, 
and  forbidden  to  use  his  reason  outside  of  tlie  pinfold 
of  dogma,  frittered  away  his  intellect  over  triHes.  lie 
vaunted  liis  recondite  erudition.  He  amused  liinisclf  by 
writing  ])onderous  works  on  insigniticant  themes,  carry- 
ing to  an  extreme  tliat  fasliion  of  the  hite  Kcnaissanci; 
whicli  substituted  Latin  for  Italian.  To  turn  a  period 
like  Cicero,  to   mimic   Martial    in   an   I'pigram,  were   the 


80  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

aims  of  every  one  who  pretended  to  cultivation.  If  we 
could  believe  the  tablets  and  epitaphs  which  meet  the 
stranger's  eye  in  every  town  in  Italy,  recording  that 
"this  was  the  house,"  or  "this  is  the  tomb  of  So-and-So, 
the  peer  of  Virgil  in  poetry,  of  Cicero  in  eloquence,  of 
Horace  in  wit,"  we  must  conclude  that  the  Italian  intel- 
lect was  never  so  luxuriant  as  in  the  two  centuries  be- 
tween Tasso  and  Alfieri.  But  the  great  number  of  those 
immortals  and  the  unstinted  praise  make  us  suspicious. 
Those  little  reputations  of  a  village,  those  heroes  of  a 
clique,  those  fireflies  which  the  uncritical  mistook  for 
stars,  what  were  they  but  indications  of  the  intellectual 
beggary  of  that  time?  Affectation  pervaded  manners 
and  the  arts.  Painting  still  had  some  skill  of  technique, 
but  no  soul  nor  taste ;  even  color,  the  supreme  gift  of  the 
Venetians,  became  ashen  and  ghastly,  ^  as  if  dissolution 
were  near.  Sculpture  and  architecture  blustered  in  the 
bombast  of  the  Baroque  School,  and  then  simpered  in  the 
puerilities  of  the  Rococo.  Yet  there  was  endless  talk 
about  art;  and  the  collections  of  paintings  and  statues, 
that  are  among  the  most  precious  visible  products  of  the 
Renaissance,  were  gradually  formed.  Elegance  of  a  cer- 
tain pompous  sort  was  not  wanting  to  the  intercourse  of 
the  nobility.  Ecclesiastical  pageants  were  never  more 
magnificent.  How  many  millions  of  candles  —  from 
those  tallow  lights  at  a  penny  which  the  poor  burn  to 
solace  the  souls  of  friends  in  Purgatory,  to  those  huge 
standards  of  wax,  too  heavy  for  one  man  to  carry,  and 
kindled  only  on  state  occasions  —  were  consumed  at 
Italy's  myriad  altars  every  year?  How  many  hundred 
millions  in  a  century?  Festivals  of  the  Church,  proces- 
sions, banquets,  and  celebrations  of  the  nobility,  the  lay- 
ing out  of  parks,  the  embellishment  of  villas,  the  erection 
of   votive   chapels   and    mausoleums,  —  on  ends   such   as 

^  As  in  the  works  of  Tiepolo,  the  most  prominent  Venetian  painter  of 
the  eighteenth  century. 


REACTION    AND    DECLINE.  81 

these  prelates  and  nobles  spent  the  wealth  which,  accord- 
ing to  the  shrewd  system  they  maintained,  flowed  through 
the  channels  of  privilege  into  their  yawning  coffers. 

Beyond  the  Alps,  great  events  and  pregnant  changes 
were  to  record:  a  Cromwell  in  England,  a  Grand  Mon- 
arque  in  France,  the  sturdy  independence  of  the  Dutch,  a 
Thirty  Years'  War  in  Germany,  Sweden  striding  confi- 
dently into  the  European  arena,  the  Electorate  of  Bran- 
denburg expanding  into  the  Kingdom  of  Prussia,  Mus- 
covy waxing  ominously  strong  in  the  North,  and  in 
America  the  sapling  liberty  transplanted  from  England 
growing  into  a  tree,  —  all  this,  while  Italy  remained  inert 
and  backward,  scarcely  noting  what  occurred.  And  she 
in  her  turn  was  forgotten  by  her  neighbors,  except  when 
they  coveted  her  riches  or  passed  her  provinces  as  mar- 
riage dowers  from  one  prince  to  another.  S])ain  was  her 
taskmaster,  —  Spain  the  bigoted,  the  bloodthirsty,  the 
coiTupting.  Were  it  not  for  the  business  and  intrigues 
of  the  j)apal  court  with  the  rest  of  the  Catholic  world,  we 
might  declare  that  Italy  had  no  concern  in  the  interna- 
tional life  of  Euro])e  for  more  than  two  hundred  years. 
IIow,  indeed,  could  it  be  otherwise?  Had  not  the  Coun- 
cil of  Trent  decreed  that  progress  was  damnable,  that  the 
Renaissance  should  be  expunged,  and  that  Italians  should 
slink  back  into  the  condition  of  the  Middle  A<i:e? 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

SCIENCE   AND   FOLLY. 

At  last  Italy  seems  hopelessly  fallen.  Corroding 
dogmas,  tireless  Jesuits,  a  vindictive  Inquisition,  and  the 
Spaniards  have  like  fabled  vampires  settled  upon  her 
exhausted  body  to  suck  out  the  last  drop  of  life-blood. 
The  mission  of  Spain  has  been  to  brutalize  whatever 
people  she  has  ruled;  the  Huns  of  old  slaughtered  the 
bodies,  the  modern  Spaniards  have  spared  the  lives  only 
to  befoul  the  souls  of  their  victims.  To  Italy  they  did, 
indeed,  bring  peace, — but  what  a  peace!  "The  inva- 
sions ceased, "  says  Balbo :  "  for  the  stranger  who  hectored 
us  screened  us  from  invaders.  Intestine  wars  ceased: 
the  same  stranger  took  away  their  cause  by  bridling 
national  ambitions.  Popular  revolutions  ceased:  the 
stranger  bridled  the  peo2)lesI  "  ^  From  the  Treaty  of 
Cateau-Cambresis  (1559)  onward,  a  black  shadow  man- 
tled Italy,  — the  shadow  of  the  iniquities  of  Spain. 

Nevertheless,  in  spite  of  political  and  moral  decadence, 
the  Italian  genius  was  not  dead.  It  exercised  itself  in 
the  Drama  and  in  Music,  —  the  only  arts  which,  like 
exotics  in  a  greenhouse,  can  flourish  amid  despotism. 
Early  in  the  sixteenth  century,  dramatic  literature  had 
been  revived  on  classic  models  by  Machiavelli,  Dovizio, 
and  Ariosto,  but  the  Drama,  being  tied  to  the  apron- 
strings  of  its  venerable  nurse, — the  Unities, — never 
learned  to  walk;  whereas  low  comedy,  the  farce,  and  the 
burlesque,  springing  from  hvimble  native  origin,  and  hav- 
ing neither  Plautus  nor  Terence  for  sponsor,  nor  Aristo- 

1  Balbo:    Storia  d'  Italia  (10th  ed.),  p.  olo. 


SCIENCE   AND   FOLLY.  83 

tie  for  pedagogue,  grew  up  to  represent  the  life  of  the 
lower  classes,  and  was  at  last  introduced  into  polite  society 
by  Goldoni,  the  most  genuine  of  comic  writers.  Pales- 
trina  was  the  earliest  master  of  musical  composition ;  after 
him  Music  gradually  became  secularized,  and,  in  Peri's 
opera  "Euridice,"  it  was  first  wedded  to  the  Drama. 

But  the  most  important  field  in  which  the  Italian  gen- 
ius labored  between  the  Council  of  Trent  and  the  French 
Revolution  was  that  of  Science ;  and  as  if  to  symbolize 
the  change  from  Art  to  Science,  Galileo  was  born  on  the 
day  of  Michael  Angelo's  death  (February  18, 1564).  The 
men  of  science  worked  amid  the  greatest  obstacles:  on 
the  one  hand,  civil  and  ecclesiastical  rulers  were  united 
to  strangle  free  investigation ;  on  the  other,  pedants  and 
dilettanti  took  no  interest  in  and  gave  no  encouragement 
to  investigators.  Only  recently  have  we  come  to  know 
how  many  of  the  ideas  which  are  the  leaven  of  our  time 
were  engendered  by  neglected  Italians,  whose  fame  has 
been  inherited  by  more  fortunate  Germans,  Frenchmen, 
or  Britons.  Were  the  cryptographic  notes  of  Leonardo 
da  Vinci  fully  edited,  it  would  be  found  that  he  deserved 
to  rank  among  the  foremost  inventors  and  natural  philos- 
ophers of  tlie  world ;  for  receptivity  so  universal,  obser- 
vation so  keen,  a  power  to  specialize  so  perfectly  blended 
with  a  power  to  generalize,  have  perhaps  never  been 
develo])ed  to  so  remarkable  a  degree  as  in  him;  but 
his  encyclopedic  discoveries  were  veiled  for  three  centu- 
ries behind  a  cipher,  and  an  army  of  investigators  liad 
caught  up  with  and  surpassed  him,  before  liis  ciplicr  was 
interpreted.  This  ha])])encd  also  to  (lionhmo  Bruno, 
the  ])r('(*ursor  of  modern  rationalists.  I  lis  restless  mind 
wandered  through  the  domain  of  knowledge,  came  to 
the  frontier  beyoud  which  tlie  Cluircli  asserted  there  was 
nothing,  crossed  it  as  galliardly  as  a  swallow  flies  over  a 
hedge,  and  found  a  limitless,  living  univeise.  of  wliich 
Christendom  and  tlie  earth  are  but  a  speck.      And  wlu-n. 


84  THE   DAWN    OF   ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

in  his  unmethodic  roaming,  he  returned  and  told  of  some 
of  the  wonders  he  had  seen,  the  Inquisition  caught  him 
in  its  ckitehes,  imprisoned  him,  tortured  him,  burnt  him. 
A  little  earlier  than  this,  Paleario,  another  liberal  thinker 
who  had  dared  to  say  that  the  "  Inquisition  is  a  poniard 
aimed  at  all  writers,"  perished  at  the  stake;  a  little  later 
Vannini,  teaching  at  Toulouse  what  we  call  rationalism, 
and  the  Church  calls  heresy,  was  seized  and  done  to  death. 
Whatever  may  be  the  value  of  these  men's  specul?»tions, 
the  preciousness  of  their  example  cannot  be  blinked; 
right  or  wrong,  they  died  for  their  ideas,  —  and  there  is 
no  higher  test  of  sincerity  than  that.  They  by  their  mar- 
tyrdom and  others  by  their  exile  proved  that  Italians 
were  capable  of  sacrificing  everything  for  their  convic- 
tions. ^  Bruno  had  declared  among  other  "abominable 
heresies"  that  there  are  innumerable  worlds ;  shortly  after 
his  death  a  more  illustrious  victim,  Galileo,  was  threat- 
ened with  torture  for  affirming  this  and  other  corollaries 
of  the  Copernican  system.  One  would  think  that  the 
theory  of  the  plurality  of  worlds  testified  to  the  majesty 
of  an  omnipotent  God,  but  the  Inquisition  thought  other- 
wise ;  for  the  inhabitants  of  those  other  worlds  must  need 
salvation,  and  Christ  must  therefore  be  kept  busy  travel- 
ing from  world  to  world  on  his  redeeming  mission.  The 
doctrine  of  the  Incarnation  was  sufficiently  improbable 
when  applied  to  the  earth  only ;  to  conceive  of  the  same 
process  as  going  forward  successively  in  all  the  habitable 
orbs  of  the  firmanent  was  to  stretch  improbability  even 
beyond  the  clasp  of  faith.  So  the  Church  declared  this 
new  theory,  which  puzzled  faith  and  degraded  man 
from  his  solitary  honor  as  the  peculiar  favorite  of  the 
Almighty,  to  be  heretical.  From  this  example  we  per- 
ceive how  quick  the  Clmrch  was  to  scent  danger  in  scien- 
tific investigation,  (ialileo  was  not,  indeed,  burned,  but 
he  was  harassed    until    his    spirit    broke.      Contempora- 

^  Cf.  Berti :    Giordano  Bruno  da  Nola  :  Sua  Vita  r  Sua  Dottrina  (1889). 


SCIENCE   AND    FOLLY.  85 

neous  with  him,  Campanella,  a  pioneer  in  scientific  study, 
who  urged  that  the  laws  of  Nature  must  be  sought  in  Na- 
ture, and  not  in  Aristotle,  suffered,  partly  for  political 
reasons  and  partly  for  alleged  heresies,  an  imprisonment 
lasting  twenty-seven  years.  Sarpi,  an  eminent  scholar 
and  the  best  historian  of  his  time,  was  secretly  menaced 
by  the  Jesuits.  Such  the  treatment  awaiting  men  whose 
researches  might  conflict  with  the  assumptions  which  the 
Council  of  Trent  had  mistaken  for  eternal  truth.  Brains 
and  perseverance  were  not  wanting  in  Italy;  but  with 
what  cheer  could  they  be  applied  when  the  path  of 
Science,  always  arduous,  led  to  the  dungeon  or  the  stake  ?  ^ 
Patiently,  and  for  the  most  part  obscurely,  those  dis- 
ciples of  science  toiled;  with  the  menace  of  the  Inqui- 
sition always  hanging  over  them,  yet  unal)le  to  frighten 
them  from  their  brave  and  genial  task.  Like  the  earth- 
worms, which  bore  underground  to  fertilize  the  soil,  their 
invaluable  work  was  unappreciated.  On  the  surface, 
butterflies,  gaudy  of  hue  and  indolent  of  flight,  creatures 
without  sting  or  industry,  flitted  to  and  fro,  complacent 
and  careless ;  as  if  the  eternal  forces  of  the  universe  had 
been  in  travail  but  to  bring  forth  butterflies,  the  frail 
product  and  glory  of  creation.  Behold  tlie  noblesse  of 
Italy  disporting  itself  during  the  eightcentli  century,  after 
tlie  manner  of  jeweled  insects;  behold  high-born  and 
pedanti(4 Italians  reduced  to  silliness,  yet  even  in  silliness 
proving  themselves  masters.  Every  pe()])le  lias  had  its 
interims  of  affectation,  its  holidays  of  folly,  its  nights  of 
moonshine  and  sentimentality;  ])ut  the  Italian  Arcadians 

'  Aiiioiiff  many  names  desorviii';'  mention,  I  can  specify  but  a  few  :  In 
Medicine,  Falloppio  and  Vesalius;  in  Natural  History  and  IMiysics,  Torri- 
celli,  Cassini,  Kedi,  Malpig-hi,  and  Maj;alotti  ;  in  tlie  I'hilosophy  of  History, 
Vico ;  in  Sociolof^y,  Heccaria  and  liandini  ;  in  Electricity.  (lalvani  and 
Volt-a ;  in  Mathematics,  Laji:ran};e.  Lycll  (in  liis  I'riiicijtlis  nf  (imloijii) 
enumerates  twenty-one  Italians  wlio  advanced  that  science  lictween  the 
sixteenth  and  nineteenth  centuries.  See  also  Lihri's  //('.s/(/(V(  dis  Si-iinns 
Malh-^mutiquts  en  Itd/ie. 


86  THE   DAWN   OF   ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

surpassed  them  all.  And  to  follow  the  Italian  genius  to 
the  end  of  its  long  pilgrimage  we  must  now  turn  aside 
into  imaginary  pastures  and  listen  to  the  pipings  of  mock- 
shepherds  and  watch  the  gambols  of  make-believe  shep- 
herdesses. 

In  the  year  1690  some  poetasters  at  Rome  were  wont 
to  go  into  the  neighboring  country,  where,  reclining  be- 
neath pine  or  chestnut,  they  read  their  effusions  to  each 
other.  Real  poetry  was  long  since  dead ;  but  now  that 
they  had  nothing  to  say,  a  legion  of  rhymsters  started 
up  to  say  it.  One  day,  a  party  of  these  having  gathered 
in  the  fields  beyond  the  Castle  of  St.  Angelo,  one  of  them, 
stirred  by  the  conclusion  of  a  fellow's  verses,  exclaimed, 
"Lo,  Arcadia  has  come  to  life  again  for  us!  "  All  were 
delighted  by  this  discovery,  and  they  planned  forthwith 
an  Academy  to  be  called  "The  Arcadian."  Crescimbeni, 
whose  brain  the  irreverent  described  as  being  "half  wood 
and  half  lead,"  was  the  foremost  in  this  enterprise.  The 
Academy  soon  flourished.  Everybody  was  eager  to  be- 
long to  it.  Cardinals  and  priests,  judges  and  cavaliers, 
ladies  and  literati,  flocked  to  its  meetings.  The  Arcadian 
community  was  established  on  republican  princii)les,  each 
sheep  being  as  good  as  his  neighbors,  whatever  difference  in 
rank  might  separate  them  in  the  unpoetical  world  outside. 
Jesus  Christ  was  unanimously  elected  the  Tutelar  Presi- 
dent, and  Christina,  the  tomboy  ex-Queen  of  Swt^en,  who 
had  died  on  the  very  day  the  Academy  was  projected,  was 
chosen  its  patroness  and  honored  with  funeral  rites.  The 
Arcadians  met  in  the  parks  of  its  illustrious  members. 
In  the  Giustiniani  Gardens  there  was  an  open  lawny 
space  encircled  by  trees,  and  this  they  called  their  "thea- 
tre," which  they  provided  with  two  rows  of  seats,  "sim})le 
and  rustic,  but  })leasing  and  delicious,  being  all  clothed 
in  odorous  myrtle  and  interwoven  with  green  laurel." 
Here  nymphs  and  shepherds  listened  to  bucolic  poets,  or 
mingled  in  pastoral  dances.     They  gave  classic  or  mon- 


SCIENCE   AND   FOLLY.  87 

grel-classic  names  to  everything,  and  to  themselves. 
Beautiful  Faustina  Maratta  was  "Aglaura  Cidonia," 
Marchioness  Massima  was  "Fidalma,"  Rolli  was  "the 
modern  Propertius,""  macaw-beaked  Crescimbeni  was 
"Alfesibeo,"  Gravina,  the  learned  jurisconsult,  was 
"Opico."  They  proposed  to  themselves  this  task:  "to 
exterminate  bad  taste,  and  to  prevent  its  resurrection  by 
pursuing  it  continually  whithersoever  it  may  hide  or  nest, 
even  into  fortresses  and  villas  least  known  and  least  sus- 
pected." The  Arcadians  thought  themselves  crusaders: 
not  theirs  to  free  the  Holy  Sepulchre  from  Paynim  foes, 
but  "to  redeem  Parnassus,  Helicon,  Pindar,  Hippocrene, 
Apollo,  the  Muses,  and  Pegasus,  fallen  under  the  bond- 
age of  Christian  dogs."  They  reckoned  by  Olympiads, 
they  celebrated  Olymjiic  games.  Gravina  wrote  the  laws 
of  the  Academy,  which  were  engraved  on  tablets  of  mar- 
ble and  preserved  in  tlie  serhafojo  or  sacristy.  Crescim- 
beni not  only  directed  the  revels  of  the  Arcadians  and 
wrote  their  chronicles  in  many  great  volumes,  but  he  also 
edited  what  we  may  not  irreverently  term  the  official 
Arcadian  cook-book,  containing  recipes  for  prei)aring 
canzoni  and  sonnets,  maggiolate,  cobole,  seroui,  motti, 
mottetti,  strambotti,  rispetti,  barzelate,  disperate  and 
contradisperate,  matinades  and  serenades,  gypsy-songs, 
oracles,  nenie,  epicedi,  birthday  odes,  and  all  other  varie- 
ties of  Orphic  pastry.  Angiolo  di  Costanzo,  a  mediocre 
sonneteer  of  the  sixteenth  century,  was  singled  out  as  the 
master  for  Arcadians  to  imitate,  and  a  ])art  of  the  Arca- 
dian ceremonial  was  the  reading  of  a  dissertation  on  one 
of  Costanzo's  sonnets.  The  aeut(^  Creseiinbeni  declared 
that  four  of  these  sonnets  contain  "all  that  is  necessary 
for  Tuscan  lyric  poetry." 

Dom  John  V  of  Portugal  was  so  grateful  for  honors 
showed  hiju  at  Rome  by  the  Arcadians,  that  he  bestowed 
upon  them  a  strip  of  land  on  the  .laniculnni,  wliich  they 
named  tlie  Parrhasian  (irovc,  and  resorted  to  in  sununer. 


88  THE   DAWN   OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

Portraits  of  distinguished  shepherds  and  shepherdesses 
were  hung  there,  and  when  Arcadians  died,  — for  death 
enters  even  Arcadia,  —  magnificent  pyramids  were  raised 
to  them.  The  fame  of  the  Academy  spread  so  rapidly 
that  within  two  years  fifty-eight  colonies  had  been  estab- 
lished outside  of  the  capital,  and  the  colonists  numbered 
above  thirteen  hundred.  The  peninsula  was  infected  by 
a  species  of  epidemic,  a  Phoeban  influenza,  whose  victims 
sneezed  in  rhythm.  The  business  of  saving  souls  and  of 
governing:  States  seemed  trivial  and  sordid  to  these  thir- 
teen  hundred  poets,  amid  whose  twittering  the  notes  of 
vulgarer  Academies,  like  the  Intronati,  the  Stravaganti, 
the  Umidi,  or  the  Imbecilli,  were  drowned. 

What  pictures  the  imagination  paints  of  plump  dow- 
agers weaving  laurel  crowns  for  venerable  but  still  am- 
orous prelates!  Of  shepherds,  sad,  mad,  passionate,  dis- 
consolate, breathing  their  sighs  upon  the  zephyrs  of  the 
Villa  Odescalchi  or  wandering  rueful  through  the  melan- 
choly cypress-lanes  of  the  Villa  d'  Este !  Of  pompous 
Gravina,  quitting  legal  folios  to  chirp  madrigals  in  Fidal- 
ma's  bower!  Of  Crescimbeni,  having  piped  all  day  on 
his  syrinx,  devoting  his  night  to  immortalizing  Arcadia 
in  his  history !  A  herculean  task  he  found  it,  for  the 
poets  to  be  immortalized  soon  numbered  thousands,  and 
new  ones  hourly  appeared :  so  that  in  despair  he  wrote  all 
their  names  on  slips  of  paper,  and  shook  them  up,  and 
drew  forth  a  few  for  Fame  to  blazon.  Can  we  not  see 
Monsignor  Daphnis  and  the  Countess  Cliloe  billing  and 
cooing  beside  an  Arcadian  haycock,  or  Narcissus,  ■ — • 
known  in  plain  life  as  Abbe  Frugoni,  — gazing  at  him- 
self in  a  fountain  ?  And  here  His  Eminence  the  Cardi- 
nal, transformed  into  Cory  don,  adores  Her  Grace  the 
Duchess,  —  who  as  Phyllis  or  Dorinda  tends  imaginary 
sheep;  what  time  the  Duke,  with  periwig  on  head  and 
crook  in  hand,  frisks  over  the  sward  or  darts  into  the 
shadowy  bosks,  in  pursuit  of  some  portly  nymph,  still 
coy,  though  the  mother  of  many  children ! 


SCIENCE   AND    FOLLY.  89 

Let  us  draw  near  and  listen  to  some  of  these  poets. 
Lucinio  —  whose  real  name  is  Meloncelli  (little  melons) 
—  yearns  to  be  turned  into  a  swan,  for  no  evil  purpose, 
but  simply  that  he  may  expire  singing  praises  to  the 
Delphic  god.  Siralgo  wishes  to  be  changed  into  a  laurel, 
so  that  the  Muses  may  come  and  cut  the  name  of  Delia, 
his  mistress,  on  the  bark.  Gantila,  a  lachrymose,  middle- 
aged  gentleman,  unable  to  restrain  his  tears  night  or 
day,  forefeels  that  Cupid  will  turn  him  into  a  river;  and 
he  is  not  sorry,  because  he  can  then  serve  as  a  mirror  to 
the  beautiful  but  obdurate  face  which  he  has  borne  and 
still  bears  in  his  bosom.  Thyrsis  tells  us  that  having 
plaited  a  little  straw  basket,  he  put  a  kiss  in  it  and  sent 
it  to  his  sweetheart;  but  Cui)id  slyly  hid  his  darts 
therein,  and  when  the  unwary  Nigella  lifted  the  cover, 
she  was  of  course  hopelessly  wounded.^  Oh  edifying  in- 
nocence of  shepherds  in  broadcloth  and  shei)herdesses  in 
brocades  I  Having  heard  each  other's  idyls  till  their 
Arcadian  ears  were  cloyed,  and  liaving  gamboled  till  their 
aristocratic  legs  were  weary,  they  were  served  a  ban(juet 
of  pastoral  dainties,  borne  by  lackeys  into  a  rustic  cal)in. 

Strange  freak  of  fate  I  At  a  time  when  few  or  none 
had  any  more  the  capacity  to  feel  passion,  — whose  voice 
is  poetry, — the  wit  and  rank  of  a  whole  people  suc- 
cinnljed  to  this  mild  delirium,  which  they  mistook  for  the 
divine  poetic  frenzy.  Then,  when  there  was  no  genuine 
sympathy  for  real  shepherds  and  husbandmen,  nor  for 
any  other  toiler,  tlie  (Vitr  of  Italy  ])nt  on  tliis  mask  of 
rusticity,  not  for  once  only,  nor  for  a  single  carnival  of 
silliness,  but  for  well-nigh  a  century.  Tlie  Arcadians 
exorcised  Marini  and  all  the  demons  of  bad  tasti^;  tliey 
had  their  julnlees,  at  oni'  of  which  they  crowned  Perfetti, 
who  sang  liis  im])r()visations  to  the  accompaniment  of  a 
harpsicliord ;  at  another  they  crowned  Corillu  Oliiiipica,- 

'   <'rfS(iiiil)('iii  ;    L'  Arcidid  CUdihi'.  171  1 ),  j)p.  ;;I(>-12. 
'■^  Her  real  iiaine  \v;i.s  Madilalciia  Moiu;lli. 


90  THE   DAWN    OF   ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

a  squint-eyed  improvisatrice,  whom  Madame  de  Stael 
subsequently  made  the  heroine  of  "Corinne."  They  im- 
portuned high  and  low  with  their  honors:  Goethe  him- 
self avoided  the  absurdity  of  a  coronation  at  the  Capitol 
only  by  accepting  membership  in  their  Academy  and  by 
promising  to  cultivate  the  Field  of  Melpomene.  But  alas 
for  the  ten  thousand  fleeting  ApoUos,  and  alas  for  the 
blissful  reign  of  Bo-peep!  Arcadia  itself,  its  legion  of 
poets,  its  bevies  of  shepherdesses,  —  "  semi-nymj)hs,  semi- 
nuns," —  its  naiads,  fauns,  and  Pythian  priestesses, 
faded  into  the  inane,  from  which  like  a  vapor  they  had 
emerged.  Their  very  names  are  forgotten,  or  if  one  or 
two  —  Frugoni's,  for  instance  —  be  remembered,  it  is 
to  give  personality  and  a  semblance  of  life  to  an  age  of 
nonsense,  which  woidd  otherwise  seem  too  silly,  too  fan- 
tastic, to  have  ever  been  real.^ 

Nero  fiddled,  we  are  told,  while  Rome  was  burning. 
The  aristocracy  of  Italy  danced  and  pij)ed  in  equal  un- 
concern during  the  eighteenth  century,  when  there  was 
kindling  a  conflagration  destined  to  consume  crowns  and 
privileges,  and  to  singe  even  the  vestments  of  the  Pope. 
Pipe  and  dance,  shepherds  and  shepherdesses!  Frisk, 
innocent  sheep,  for  the  hour  is  at  hand  when  the  wolves 
shall  come.  M.  Voltaire  is  turning  not  only  your  verses, 
but  also  your  religion,  into  ridicule.  Can  your  Church 
survive  that?  Contempt  follows  close  upon  sarcasm,  and 
after  contempt  —  what?  M.  Rousseau,  too,  is  preaching 
a  strange   social  doctrine;  he   avows   that  those  rustics, 

^  For  details  see  Crescimbeni ;  also  Emiliani-Giudiei  and  other  historians 
of  Italian  literature  ;  in  English,  Vernon  Lee's  diffuse  but  entertaining-  essay 
(in  her  Studies  of  the  Eighteenth  Century  in  Italy)  should  be  consulted.  I 
quote  her  clever  summarj'  of  Arcadian  bombast :  "  The  sun  cooled  itself 
in  the  waters  of  rivers  which  were  on  fire  ;  the  celestial  sieve,  resplendent 
with  shining  holes,  was  swept  by  the  bristly  back  of  the  Apennines ;  love 
was  an  infernal  heaven  and  a  celestial  hell,  it  was  burning  ice  and  freezing 
fire,  and  was  inspired  by  ladies  made  up  entirely  of  coral,  gold  thread, 
lilies,  roses,  and  ivory,  on  whose  lips  sat  Cupids,  shooting  arrows  which 
were  snakes."     Page  11. 


SCIENCE   AND   FOLLY.  91 

whom  you  condescend  to  mimic,  have  hearts  and  soids, 
and  that,  were  classes  ranked  according  to  nature  and 
natural  rights,  you  would  not  be  uppermost.  What  if 
the  peasants  take  counsel  of  Jean  Jacques  and  forcibly 
claim  their  own ;  think  you  to  tame  their  savage  breasts 
with  madrigals,  or  to  drive  them  back  by  flourishing  your 
ribboned  crooks  ?  Futile  questions.  Arcadians  stoop  not 
to  such  vulgar  fancies ;  they  reck  not  what  may  happen 
to  barbarians  beyond  the  mountains.  Butterflies  which 
come  in  summer  believe  that  svunmer  is  made  for  them ; 
what  can  they  know  of  other  seasons?  Merciful  nature 
bids  numbness  to  precede  dissolution,  otherwise  the 
agony  of  death  would  be  too  cruel. 

And  yet,  even  in  Italy  there  were  little  signs  and  warn- 
ings that  a  calamity  was  approaching.  Viewed  on  the 
surface,  the  most  important  change  was  the  expulsion  of 
the  Spaniards  and  the  accession  of  the  Austrians,  —  a 
change  of  taskmaster,  but  not  of  conditions.  Bourbons 
of  the  House  of  Austria  ruled  Milan  and  ]Mantua,  Tus- 
cany and  the  Two  Sicilies.  Leopold,  (xrand  Duke  of 
Tuscany,  framed  a  code  restricting  the  privilege  of  the 
Church  in  his  dominion,  and  his  brother,  Joseph  the 
Second,  —  a  skeptic  and  cynic,  —  introduced  into  the 
Empire  reforms  that  threatened  to  disestablish  Catholi- 
cism as  the  State  religi<m.  But  the  Papacy,  like  an 
experienced  coquette,  knew  the  value  of  persistence,  and 
now  by  upbraiding,  now  by  caressing,  and  now  by 
threatening,  she  recovered  her  ascendeney.  Nor  should 
we  pass  by  uiunentioned  the  efforts  of  at  least  one  al)l(> 
l^ope  to  })urify  the  Curia;  nor  the  su])})rt'Ssion  of  the 
.Jesuits.  But  amelioration  depi'udent  on  one  man  lasted 
oidy  his  lift'tinie,  and  soon  the  Revolution  eanie.  to  make 
all  changes  suspected  l)y  the  civil  an<l  hierarchical 
tyrants,  and  to  reunite  Konie  and  Austria  in  a  commun- 
ion of  terror.  Nevertht'less,  it  is  significant  that  Leopold 
looked  to  economists  and  philoso[)hcrs,  and  not  to  church- 


92  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

men,  for  counsel,  and  that  he,  the  son  of  Maria  Theresa, 
was  the  first  ruler  in  Italy  to  respond  to  the  changing 
current  and  to  propose  laws  prophetic  of  the  modern 
spirit. 

Another  symptom  is  the  greater  frequency  and  sincer- 
ity of  the  utterance  by  un- Arcadian  Italians  of  their 
desire  to  be  free.  That  desire  was  certainly  old.  It 
resounded  from  Dante's  volume,  like  the  undertone  of  a 
cataract.  Dante  predicted  the  coming  of  a  greyhound 
who  should  put  to  flight  the  wolves  that  harried  Italy ;  he 
believed  that  the  Emperor  could  quell  the  strife  of  Guelf s 
and  Ghibellines,  restore  peace  and  unity  to  the  disor- 
dered land,  and  restrain  the  arrogance  of  the  Church. 
But  even  before  Dante  died,  the  fulfilment  of  his  dream 
appeared  plainly  improbable,  and  though,  with  the  course 
of  time,  it  became  impossible,  still  the  dream  itself,  the 
desire,  nestled  close  in  the  hearts  of  the  noblest  Italians. 
They  mistook  the  isolated  and  spasmodic  outbursts  of 
dying  liberty  for  birth-throes.  Petrarch  lamented  that 
Italy,  "aged,  otiose,  and  slow,"  seemed  not  to  feel  her 
ills.  "Will  she  sleep  forever,  and  will  no  one  arouse 
her? "  he  exclaimed,  appealing  to  the  patriotism  of 
Rienzi.^  When  Rienzi's  brief  illusion  had  been  dis- 
pelled, the  poet  turned  to  the  lords  of  Italy,  and  urged 
them  to  arm  for  her  liberation.  "Behold  with  pity  the 
tears  of  your  dolorous  people,  which  only  from  you,  after 
God,  await  repose;  and  if  you  show  but  one  sign  of 
pity.  Virtue  against  Fury  will  take  up  arms;  and  short 
will  be  the  combat;  for  the  old-time  valor  in  Italian 
hearts  is  not  yet  dead."  A  noble  appeal,  but  the  gran- 
dees heeded  it  not.^  Two  centuries  later,  Machiavelli,  in 
closing  his  treatise,  "The  Prince,"  invoked  Lorenzo  de' 
Medici,  to  wliom  he  dedicated  that  sphinx-like  book,  to 
come  to  the  rescue  of  his  country.  "I  cannot  express," 
he    writes,    "with    what   love    that   redeemer    would    be 

^  Canzone  a  Cola  di  Rienzo.  "  Canzone  a'  Grand!  d"  Italia. 


SCIENCE   AND   FOLLY.  93 

received  in  all  the  provinces  that  have  suffered  through 
these  foreign  inundations ;  with  what  thirst  for  vengeance, 
with  what  stubborn  faith,  with  what  pity,  with  what 
tears.  What  gates  would  be  shut  against  him?  What 
peoples  would  deny  him  obedience?  What  envy  would 
oppose  him?  What  Italian  would  deny  him  homage? 
This  foreign  dominion  stinketh  in  the  nostrils  of  every 
one."^  But  the  degenerate  Medici  could  not  be  moved 
to  noble  action. 

The  plaint  passed  on  from  mouth  to  mouth,  becoming 
less  vehement  because  the  belief  that  the  future  could 
bring  succor  began  to  wane.  Only  the  strong  heart 
dares  to  hope  amid  adversities.  Chiabrera,  the  courtly 
verse-maker  of  the  sixteenth  century,  bade  his  country- 
men to  arise,  not  to  shake  off  their  tyrants,  but  to  save 
themselves  from  even  worse  ignominy,  —  the  oppression 
of  the  Turks.  The  glory  of  the  past,  the  freedom  that 
woidd  never  return,  now  inspired  the  utterance  of  the  few 
in  whom  a  sense  of  the  dignity  of  patriotism  still  throbbed. 
As  among  the  later  Jews,  the  voices  were  voices  of  lam- 
entation, not  of  courage;  what-might-have-been  stifled 
what-shall-be.  Filicaja,  in  a  sonnet  which  Italians  still 
love,  poured  out  this  despairing  wail:  "Italy,  Italy,  thou 
to  whom  fortune  gave  the  fatal  gift  of  beauty,  whence 
hast  thou  this  dower  of  infinite  woes,  wliicli,  written  by 
great  sorrow,  thou  bearest  on  thy  brow?  AWnild  thou 
wert  less  beautiful,  or  at  least  more  strong,  so  that  he 
who  seems  to  be  destroyed  by  the  rays  of  thy  bi-auty  and 
wlio  yet  betrays  thee  to  Death,  might  fi-ar  thee  more,  or 
love  thee  less.  For  then  tliou  wouldst  not  bcliold  the 
army  -  torrents  sweep  down  from  the  Alps,  nor  (iallic 
troo])s  drink  the  blood  -  tinged  waters  of  the  Po ;  nor 
wouldst  thou  see  thyself,  girded  witli  a  sword  not  thine, 
fight  with  the  arms  of   foreign  jx'oples,  to  serve  always, 

'  U  I'n'niljii .  i.h;ij).  -<>. 


94  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

whether  victorious  or  vanquished."^  It  is  related  that 
when  Napoleon's  army  was  crossing  the  Alps,  an  ava- 
lanche swept  a  bugler  from  the  path  into  a  ravine  far 
below ;  and  his  comrades  heard  his  bugle  sound,  fainter 
and  fainter,  until  the  snows  and  cold  silenced  him :  from 
.such  a  depth  of  hopelessness,  Filicaja's  melancholy  note 
floated  to  the  ears  of  his  countrymen ;  and  it  had  many 
echoes. 

^  Byron  paraphrased  the  opening  of  this  sonnet  in  Childe  Harold,  iv,  42. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

NEW   VOICES   AND   REVOLUTION. 

At  last,  about  the  time  when  Arcadians  were  growing 
ridiculous  even  to  themselves,  Italy  was  startled  by  a  new 
voice,  —  which  had  in  it  the  resonance  of  trumpet  and 
drum.  Here  was  no  dirge,  but  a  reveille,  no  lamenta- 
tion, but  a  defiance,  which  rang  through  the  peninsula. 
For  tht;  first  time  since  Tasso,  an  Italian  poet  was  heard 
beyond  the  Alps.  Europe  was  astonished  that  Italy,  the 
ancient  mother  of  groat  men,  shoidd  bear  in  her  old  age 
such  a  son  as  Alfieri;  but  he  was  plainly  hers  and  no 
changeling,  for  in  his  speech,  his  gestures,  and  his  mien 
he  resembled  the  mighty  children  of  her  prime.  In  his 
life,  Alfieri  was  wild  and  wayward;  eipially  vehement  in 
his  appetite  for  women,  his  craze  for  horses,  and  his  ha- 
tred of  tyrants.  He  galloped  over  Europe  from  Lisl)on 
to  St.  Petersburg  in  a  coach-and-six,  not  to  observe  cus- 
toms nor  to  admire  monuments,  but  to  ease  a  restlessness 
which  could  be  eased  only  by  motion.  After  a  youth  of 
promiscuous  libertinism,  he  centred  his  affections  during 
the  last  part  of  his  life  on  the  (.ountess  of  Albany,  wife 
and  subsiHpiently  widow  of  the  Young  Pretender.  Yet 
his  character  did  not  lack  high  qualities:  lie  was  as  fii-m 
in  friendship  as  implacable  in  enmity:  h<'  w;»s  without 
sordidness;  lie  was  consistentlv  independent  evt-u  to 
haughtiness,  in  his  dt-meanor  towards  princes.  Tlie  ped- 
antry and  mawkislniess  of  ]iis  contemporaries  hedes[)ised, 
and  he  ridiculed  alike  the  follies  of  the  Arcadians  and  the 
servile  imitators  of  tlie  I"'i-eneh.  A  rigid  repul)liean,  lie 
denounced    :is    uurepultliean    llie    excesses    into  which    the 


96  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

T'rench  Revolution  was  urged  by  Robespierre  and  St. 
Just.  His  tragedies  reveal  the  man.  He  took  for  his 
subjects  the  career  of  the  Brutuses,  of  Timoleon,  of  Said, 
and  the  Conspiracy  of  the  Pazzi,  or  he  revamped  the  clas- 
sic legends  of  Agamemnon,  Merope,  and  Antigone.  Any 
personage,  any  episode,  by  which  he  could  illustrate  the 
corruption  of  kings  and  the  manful  resistance  of  citizens, 
set  his  imagination  aflame.  He  breathed  no  sighs  for 
irrevocable  grandeur,  no  regrets  for  the  past,  he  chided 
submissiveness,  and  instigated  revolt.  Regicide  and  the 
slaying  of  tyrants  he  extolled,  if  freedom  could  be  attained 
by  no  other  means. 

As  Italian  literature  had  been  sterile  in  tragedies,  Al- 
fieri,  in  supplying  this  void,  was  revered  as  the  completer 
of  the  intellectual  glory  of  his  race.  He  seemed  to  tower 
above  Sophocles  and  Shakespeare,  and  held  that  pinnacle 
until  his  power  and  art  ceased  to  be  novel.  Then  his 
critics,  piqued  at  finding  that  he  had  been  lifted  higher 
than  he  deserved,  set  him  down  in  a  place  lower  than  he 
deserved.  By  that  time  the  fashion  in  letters  had  veered 
towards  Romanticism ;  political  events  had  scattered  re- 
publican doctrines  everywhere ;  men  needed  no  longer  to 
be  aroused,  but  to  be  guided.  So  Alfieri's  reputation  suf- 
fered, as  that  of  every  author  whose  work  has  a  historic 
rather  than  a  literary  significance  must  suffer :  but  now, 
neither  blinded  by  political  hopes  nor  biased  by  the  ap- 
peals of  a  literary  clique,  we  can  judge  him  impartially. 
We  see  in  liim  a  man  of  extraordinary  energy,  and  we 
may  well  doubt  whether  talents  purely  intellectual  ever 
produced  more  splendid  results.  Every  trick  of  rhetoric, 
every  subtlety  of  oratory,  is  under  Alfieri's  control.  His 
method  is  that  of  the  French  dramatists,  who  wind  up 
their  plot  as  a  boy  stretches  his  catapult,  until  it  seems 
as  if  the  elastic  must  break :  and  then  —  presto  I  the 
missile  is  discharged,  the  plot  is  solved.  Your  interest 
is  fixed  on  the  tension,  on  the  strength  with  which  the 


NEW   VOICES   AND   REVOLUTION.  97 

elastic  is  drawn,  rather  than  on  the  accuracy  of  the  aim. 
Alfieri  wastes  nothing,  and  tolerates  no  superfluities.  He 
astonishes  and  excites,  but  does  not  charm  us;  we  are 
dazzled,  but  not  warmed  by  his  genius.  We  may  say  of 
him  what  Schiller  said  of  Madame  de  Stael :  "  In  every- 
thing which  we  call  philosophy,  consequently  in  all  the 
ultimate  and  highest  stages,  one  is  at  strife  with  her,  and 
remains  so  in  spite  of  all  discussion.  But  nature  and 
feeling  are  in  her  better  than  her  metaphysics,  and  her 
fine  intellect  rises  to  the  capacity  of  genius.  She  tries  to 
explain,  to  understand,  and  to  measure  everything;  she 
admits  of  nothing  obscure  or  unintelligible;  and  those 
things  which  cannot  be  illuminated  by  her  torch  have  no 
existence  for  her!"^  Qualities  similar  to  these  Alfieri 
possessed  so  abundantly  that  he  earned  a  conspicuous 
place  in  literature.  But  it  is  as  an  historical  figure  in 
the  regeneration  of  Italy  that  he  most  concc^rns  us,  and 
will  be  longest  remembered.  After  two  hundred  years 
of  rhyming  gabblers  and  drowsy  pedants,  he  eame  and 
spoke  with  all  the  vehemence  and  vigor  of  a  man.  The 
work  before  the  Italians  called  for  energy,  and  Alfieri 
was  the  trumpet  through  whieh  that  call,  startling  and 
metallic,  was  sounded.  He  blew  a  strong  blast,  and  the 
effeminate  guitar-strumming  was  heard  no  more. 

Contemporary  with  Alfieri  was  Parini,  a  (piict,  kindly 
man,  the  mildest  of  satirists,  who  describes  dis])assion- 
ately  the  follies  of  society  and  leaves  the  reader  to  laugh 
at  them.  The  theme  of  his  principal  ])<)cni  is  the  daily 
life  of  a  fashionable  young  nolile.  In  liis  odes  and 
shorter  pieces,  he  depicts  the  sinij)le  virtues  or  reveals  the 
(;harms  of  every-day  nature.  He  finds,  for  instance,  in 
the  discovery  of  vaccination  a  subject  more  woi-thy  than 
battles  or  conijuerors  of  our  estt'cm.  His  influence  may 
be  compared  to  Cowper's  in  England;  for  lie  broniiht 
poetry  back   from  extravagance  and  vapidity  to  tlie  con- 

'    Ccrrfspimdcna' lif/iiiin  (imthi  anii  S(/iiilir  (London,  IST'.').  ii.   JTO. 


98  THE   DAWN   OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

templation  of  actual  life,  with  its  common  sorrows  and 
pleasures,  —  unheroic,  if  you  will,  and  yet  often  touched 
by  gleams  of  true  sentiment  and  nobleness.  Among  the 
painted  Jezebels  of  Arcadia,  his  sober  Muse  walked  un- 
affectedly and  at  first  unobserved,  but  after  a  while  men 
turned  in  disgiist  from  them  to  her,  and  made  her  their 
model.  So  Parini  has  justly  been  called  the  regenerator 
of  modern  Italian  poetry. 

A  little  younger  than  Alfieri  and  Parini  were  Monti 
and  Foscolo,  two  men  who  represented  so  well  the  char- 
acter of  Italians  at  the  end  of  the  eighteenth  and  begin- 
ning of  the  nineteenth  century,  that  in  reviewing  their 
careers,  we  shall  best  understand  their  countrymen  at  this 
period.  Italians  still  spend  superlative  adjectives  when 
they  speak  of  the  talents  of  Vincenzo  Monti,  and  for  the 
sake  of  those  talents,  they  generously  forgive  the  igno- 
miny of  his  life;  but  we  may  doubt  whether  they  still 
read  his  poetry  with  pleasure  equal  to  their  praise.  Of 
the  historical  importance  of  Monti  and  his  works  there 
can  be,  however,  no  question.  Born  near  Alfonsine,  in 
Romagna,  in  the  year  1754,  he  went  to  Rome  to  devote 
himself  to  letters.  There  he  found  the  Arcadians  still 
tending  their  flocks,  and  for  a  while,  he  chimed  in  with 
their  pastoral  ditties.  His  first  effusions,  like  those  of 
most  receptive  youths,  echoed  the  prevailing  tone  of  liis 
time,  but  they  had  in  them  besides  something  original 
and  un-Arcadian,  that  attracted  attention.  Thanks  to 
the  patronage  of  Cardinal  Scipio  Borghese,  he  became 
erelong  the  most  popular  verse -maker  in  Rome.  His 
was  one  of  those  natures  to  whom  it  is  easy  to  discover 
good  qualities  in  those  who  feed  with  flattery  and  clothe 
with  honors,  and  for  fifteen  years  it  was  his  agreeable 
duty  to  extol  tlie  virtues  of  his  protector  and  to  magnify 
the  achievements  of  the  Pope,  by  whom  also  he  was  gra- 
ciously favored.  There  is  an  old  story  of  a  Christian  lady 
so  benign  that  she  had  always  sometlung  kindly  to  say 


NEW   VOICES   AND   REVOLUTION.  99 

about  everybody.  One  of  her  family,  provoked  by  her 
uniform  amiability,  exclaimed  at  last,  "But  you  must 
admit  that  there's  nothin<^  praiseworthy  in  the  Devil!" 
"On  the  contrary,"  replied  the  good  woman,  "I  think 
we  might  well  take  a  lesson  from  his  diligence."  Monti 
likewise  had  eyes  only  for  the  excellence  of  the  Roman 
court,  at  a  time  when  less  interested  critics  saw  chiefly 
its  faults.  Nevertheless,  he  had  a  mind  which  responded 
quickly  to  high  influences ;  he  soon  scorned  the  silliness 
of  Arcadia  and  was  stirred  by  Alfieri,  Shakespeare,  and 
Dante.  He  sympathized  in  the  abstract  with  heroes  and 
patriots,  and  expressed  his  sympathy  so  far  as  it  was  dis- 
creet to  do  so,  by  attributing  to  his  protectors  the  heroic 
traits  which  he  admired.  Few  men  have  been  more 
richly  gifted  than  he  with  that  intellectual  prudence 
which  mixes  just  as  much  of  radicalism  with  the  antidote 
of  conformity  as  will  make  a  pleasant  draught  for  those 
in  power.  When  the  French  Revolution  burst  forth, 
Monti  was  still  in  Rome,  writing  praises  of  Pius  VI,  and 
when,  shoi-tly  after,  Ugo  Bassville,  a  revolutionary  dis- 
ciple, came  to  the  Holy  City,  preached  republican  here- 
sies, and  was  killed  by  the  mob,  Monti  was  inspired  to 
write  one  of  his  most  famous  poems,  in  which  he  repro- 
bated the  bloody  events  in  France.  Bassville,  in  the 
poem,  could  expiate  his  crime  of  having  joined  the  regi- 
cides only  by  passing  through  hell  and  witnessing  tliere 
the  terrific  i)unishments  d(>oreed  for  tliem,  and  by  waiting 
at  the  gate  of  heaven  until  tlie  Bourbon  monarchy  sliould 
be  restored  to  France.  Monti,  no  doubt,  had  })lanne(l  to 
end  his  poem  with  a  fine  peroration,  glittering  with  praise 
of  absolute  monarchs  and  of  pa})al  benevolence;  but  un- 
fortunately for  poetic  synnnetry,  and  for  the  repentant 
spirit  of  Bassville  impatient  to  enter  into  bliss,  the  resto- 
ration of  the  Bourbons  was  delayed.  Ab)nti  ])nblished 
his  work  without  its  liiial  canto;  his  fame  increased,  but 
the  soul  of  liassville  still  waits. 


100  THE   DAWN   OF   ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

Presently  down  into  Italy  came  General  Bonaparte, 
and  changed  the  fashion  of  poetry  and  politics.  Monti, 
the  alert,  was  among  the  earliest  to  greet  the  rising  sun. 
He  had  been  deceived  by  the  lurid  flames  of  the  Reign  of 
Terror,  which,  he  now  saw,  were  but  forerunners  of  the 
day  of  freedom;  he  had  confused  the  excesses  of  the 
Revolution  with  its  true  purpose,  and  this  was  plainly 
enough  to  bring  liberty  and  equality  to  all  men,  even  to 
Italians.  Ah,  how  joyfidly  he  welcomed  the  effulgent 
deliverer,  —  how  easy  it  was  to  indulge  the  sublime  sen- 
timent of  patriotism,  now  that  every  one  was  patriotic. 
Wishing,  he  said,  "to  merit  well  of  a  free  fatherland,  by 
writing  at  last  as  a  free  man,"  he  poured  forth  in  a 
single  year  (1797)  three  canticles,  entitled  "Fanaticism," 
"Superstition,"  and  "The  Peril,"  in  which  he  execrated 
the  upholders  of  that  Old  Regime,  whose  bread  he  had 
eaten  and  whose  purse  he  had  tapped  for  well-nigh 
twenty  years.  And  to  show  the  thoroughness  of  his  con- 
version, he  addressed  to  Bonaparte  an  ode  in  which  the 
young  conqueror  figured  as  Prometheus.  If  there  be  by 
any  other  man  of  equal  rank  eulogies  as  fulsome  as  those 
which  Monti  showered  upon  Napoleon,  I  have  not  seen 
them.  "O  illustrious  God  of  War,  for  a  God  thou  surely 
art!"  he  exclaims  at  one  time;  at  another,  he  likens 
Napoleon  bringing  order  out  of  chaos  in  France  to  God 
himself  stretching  forth  His  hand  over  the  primeval  abyss. 
The  hyperbole  of  adulation  could  hit  no  higher  I 

W^hen  a  law  was  passed  to  cut  off  from  preferment  all 
those  who  had  written  against  liberty  since  1792,  Monti 
promptly  issued  a  poetical  apology  for  his  Bassvillian 
blunder,  was  granted  pardon,  and  appointed  to  the  chair 
of  belles-lettres  at  Milan.  For  an  interval  his  prospects 
darkened,  when  the  Austrians  and  Russians,  profiting  l)y 
Napoleon's  absence  in  Egj^pt,  invaded  Italy:  but  Napo- 
leon returned ;  the  victory  of  Maiengo  swept  the  invaders 
back  into  their  North,  and  secured  to  France  for  fourteen 


NEW    VOICES    AND    REVOLUTION.  101 

yeai's  the  control  of  Italy.  Monti  throve  exceedmgly 
during  that  period.  He  was  chos^'n  Poet  Laureate  to  the 
Cisalpine  Kepublic,  and,  later,  Historiographer  to  the 
Kingdom  of  Italy;  and  in  order  that  his  Pegasus  might 
not  be  worn  out  by  treadmill  work,  he  was  relieved  of  his 
duties  as  professor,  but  allowed  to  draw  a  salary  therefor. 
Napoleon  was  eager  to  entice  authors  into  his  service; 
but  in  spite  of  favors  and  subsidies,  he  could  command 
only  the  mediocre;  Monti's  reputation  was  the  most  con- 
spicuous which  he  bought.^ 

When  Napoleon  made  himself  Emperor,  and  there  was 
no  longer  a  reason  for  cherishing  the  delusion  that  he  was 
a  disinterested  champion  of  liberty,  Monti,  the  official 
songster  at  Milan,  moulted  his  democratic  feathers  and 
strutted  magnificent  in  imperial  ])lumage.  His  ardent 
muse  coidd  not  be  restrained  from  caroling  whenever 
there  was  a  Napoleonic  victory  or  wedding  or  baptism  to 
celebrate.  It  was  marvelous  how  tlie  smallest  lia})pen- 
ing  in  the  imperial  family  kindled  his  imagination ;  how 
punctually  his  song  came,  sometimes  even  before  it  had 
been  commanded  by  his  master  I  There  were  not  lack- 
ing, of  course,  voices  which  accused  him  of  apostasy  and 
cringing;  but  then,  envy  is  a  sin  to  which  literary  men 
are  proverbially  prone,  and  he  could  console  himself  with 
the  thought  that  his  detractors  would  gladly  liave  re- 
ceived, ev'^en  from  the  tyrant  they  affected  to  abhor,  the 
fat  pension  which  came  to  him  every  month.  Prosperous 
genius,  if  it  be  not  annoyed  by  modesty,  finds  a  new 
meaning  in  the  fable  of  the  Sour  (Jrapes.  Monti  did 
feel,  nevertlieless,  that  his  friends  had  some  reason  for 
regarding  his  ])osition  as  ambiguous,  for  he  wrote  to  !Mel- 
chior  Cesarotti,  in   180"):   "1   am  touching  the  Pindaric 

'   l)(j  (!iib(!rnatis.  iu  liis  study  of   Maiizoiii   (Klori'iifO,   l-^T'-O.  Rivcs  soino 

luiuisiiifi-   Rpec'iineiii)  of   these    Hiil)si(li/,c(l    jii'iiiiy-a-liiuTs'    •idulutioii.  (hie, 

(ijif^liufTi  Ijy  iiuiiie,  turiiud  the  ('u<le  Napoleon  into  heroic  eoiii>let.s.  See 
pp.  -'11-15. 


/. 


102  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

chord  for  the  Emperor  Napoleon.  The  government  lias 
thus  commanded  me,  and  I  must  perforce  obey.  God 
grant  that  the  love  of  country  do  not  draw  me  to  a  too 
great  liberty  of  thought,  and  that  I  respect  the  hero, 
without  betraying  the  duty  of  a  citizen.  I  follow  a  path 
where  the  desire  of  the  nation  does  not  accord  very  well 
with  the  political  condition,  and  I  am  afraid  of  ruining 
myself.  May  St.  Apollo  aid  me,  and  do  you  beseech  me 
to  circumspection  and  prudence."  ^  How  naive  is  that 
prayer  that  his  patriotism  may  not  draw  him  to  a  too 
great  liberty  of  thought ! 

Just  when  Monti  intended  to  throw  off  his  disguise 
we  do  not  know.  The  fall  of  Napoleon  gave  him  an 
opportunity  of  abjuring  forever  his  gilded  bondage,  but 
he  did  not  avail  himself  of  it.  On  the  contrary,  he  made 
haste,  when  Northern  Italy  passed  into  Austria's  keeping, 
to  ingratiate  himself  with  the  new  tyrant.  He  greeted 
the  Austrian  Emperor  as  "the  wise,  the  just,  the  best  of 
kings,"  a  whirlwind  in  war,  a  zephyr  in  peace.  But 
Francis  had  a  wholesome  dread  of  authors:  literary  ac- 
tivity is  a  sign  of  wakeful  brains,  and  wakeful  brains  are 
too  apt  to  concoct  incendiary  thoughts,  which  lead  the 
populace  to  revolutionary  deeds.  To  suppress  and  not  to 
encourage  the  intellectual  life  of  his  subjects  was,  there- 
fore, the  wise  policy  of  Francis.  He  abolished  the  office 
of  historiographer,  either  because  he  intended  that  his 
subjects  should  be  too  happy  to  need  an  annalist,  or  be- 
cause he  suspected  that  there  might  be  matters  which  had 
better  not  be  recorded.  Still,  he  allowed  Monti  to  draw 
a  small  pension,  in  return  for  which  ])oetic  tribute  was 
dutifully  paid.  In  his  later  years  Monti  harmed  Italy  by 
renewing  a  Dryasdust  dispute  concerning  the  purity  of 
the  Italian  language,  and  he  frittered  away  his  talents 
over  the  questions  whether  Italian  be  Tuscan  or  Tuscan 

1  Quoted  by  Mestiea:  Manuale  della  Letteratura  Italiuna  (Florence, 
18SG),  i,  33. 


NEW    VOICES    AND    REVOLUTION.  103 

be  Italian,  whether  a  writer  should  use  words  not  found 
in  the  works  of  the  fourteenth  century,  or  whether  words 
added  to  the  vocabulary  since  1400  should  not  also  be 
recognized.  A  fine  quarrel  for  the  foremost  writer  of  his 
time  to  engage  in ;  worthy  to  be  fought  out  by  servile 
pedants,  amid  much  taking  of  snuff  and  frequent  rubbing 
of  spectacles,  in  dim,  dusty  attics.  An  appetizing  dish 
of  chaff  to  set  before  a  people  who,  deceived  in  their  hope 
of  independence,  crushed  to  earth  but  not  killed,  were 
hungering  for  words  of  liberty  which  should  be  as  strong 
wine  to  their  resolve.  The  Austrians  chuckled  to  see 
their  bondsmen  voluntarily  return  to  the  threshing  of  old 
qiubblcs,  in  which  too  nnich  of  the  intelligence  of  later 
Italians  had  worn  itself  out.  Absolutism  had  learned 
that  it  had  nothing  to  fear  from  pedants.  Monti  in  this 
fashion  sank  into  an  old  age  of  poverty  and  neglect,  all 
his  trimming  and  talents  of  no  avail;  distrusted  by  his 
countrymen,  unfeared  by  his  countrymen's  enemies,  he 
died  in  1828. 

His  contemporaries  dubbed  liim  A])be  Monti,  Citizen 
Monti,  Courtier  Monti,  to  designate  the  different  phases 
of  his  sycophancy,  but  the  yuan  Monti  did  not  change. 
To  his  family  he  was  kind,  even  tender;  to  his  friends, 
he  was  affectionate;  but  he  was  vain  and  vulgarly  ambi- 
tious, lie  loved  to  move  among  smiling  faces,  tliough 
they  were  those  of  flatterers;  lie  hived  to  see  himself  the 
favorite  of  the  great,  though  the  great  were  tyrants.  At 
heart,  he  preferred  virtue  and  liberty,  and  we  can  imag- 
ine that  he  covered  the  margins  of  liis  Dante  with  apjirov- 
ing  notes:  but  it  is  one  thing  to  l)e  intellectually  li<)S])i- 
table  to  nobh'  thoughts,  and  ([uite  another  thing  to  obey 
them  "in  the  scorn  of  consecpience.'  Monti  iiad  l»eliind 
him  and  about  him  a  society  which  had  long  ago  divorced 
precepts  from  })racticc:  which  took  it  for  gi-anted  that 
the  guardians  and  exwuipiais  ot  morality  would  themst'lves 
be  neither  chaste  nor  humlilc,  neither  charitable  nor  sin- 


104  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

cere.  His  life,  and  that  of  most  of  his  fellows,  was  of 
the  intellect  and  not  of  the  conscience,  and  the  intellect, 
greedy  of  applause,  makes  worldly  success  a  duty.  More- 
over, the  alternative  was  very  real,  and  very  stern :  pov- 
erty for  certain,  probably  imprisonment,  perhaps  exile, 
possibly  death,  —  those  were  the  grim  conditions  he  must 
choose,  if  he  preferred  independence  to  compromise.  He 
exonerated  himself  by  reflecting  that  his  intentions  and 
sympathies  were  excellent ;  perhaps  self-deception  went  so 
far  that  he  thought  himself  a  martyr  to  circumstances, 
and  blamed  destiny  for  spreading  ignoble  nets  before  the 
steps  of  one  who  might  otherwise  have  stridden  with  a 
regal  gait  through  the  world.  He  could  plead  that  he 
had  counteracted  so  far  as  possible  the  effect  of  his  fawn- 
ing poems,  by  sprinkling  upon  them  patriotic  sentiments, 
which  the  alert  would  find  and  interpret.  "My  duty  as 
husband  and  father,"  he  wrote,  "made  me  belie  my  coun- 
tenance and  speech ;  listening  to  the  voice  of  nature  made 
me  seem  guilty;  but  so  beautiful  a  fault  does  not  merit 
the  blush  of  shame."  ^ 

It  would  have  been  too  cruel  to  drag  Monti's  delin- 
quency again  into  the  light,  merely  to  illustrate  the  fact 
that  intellectual  ability  is  often  without  conscience.  The 
public  press  furnishes  daily  evidence  that  the  hand  can 
write  what  the  heart  does  not  believe;  so  that  to 
strengthen  a  statement  by  "the  honor  of  a  journalist" 
would  in  most  cases  provoke  sarcastic  laughter.  He  is 
condemned  to  live  in  the  history  of  Italy's  regeneration, 
because  he  was  the  most  conspicuous  of  those  Italians 
who,  in  spite  of  mental  ability  and  good  intentions,  failed 
from  lack  of  moral  courage.  The  new  ideals  urged  them 
forward,  but  the  spiritual  enervation  of  centuries  held 
them  back.  Not  without  reason  has  Monti  been  called 
"the  last  poet  of  the  past." 

Although  Monti's  public  career  could  serve  but  as  a 

^  From  his  poem  "  La  Superstizione." 


NEW    VOICES    AND   REVOLUTION.  105 

warning,  and  although  his  writings  were  too  often  base, 
yet  he  did  positive  good  to  the  Italian  literature  of  his 
time.  lie  wrote  with  force,  he  seized  upon  living  sub- 
jects, he  showed  that  the  real  substance  of  poetry  lay  in 
the  great  events  by  which  men's  souls  were  actually 
moved,  and  not  in  the  archaic  puerilities  of  mock  shep- 
herds and  shepherdesses.  The  best  Italian  critics  agree 
that  he  infused  into  the  verse-forms  he  used  a  vigor  un- 
known since  Tasso  sang.  When  he  was  not  restrained 
by  prudential  motives,  he  could  speak  plainly.  "Mute 
sittest  thou,"  he  says  to  Italy,  at  the  time  of  the  Con- 
gress of  Udine;  "at  every  shock  thou  castest  down  thy 
glances  tremblingly;  and  in  thy  fear  thou  knowest  not 
whether  fetters  or  freedom  await  thee.  O  more  vile  than 
unfortunate!  O  derided  slave  of  thy  slaves!  Not  thus 
would  thy  countenance  be  dejected,  nor  thy  feet  chafed 
with  shackles,  if  cowardly  pride  and  long  fornication 
with  tyrants  and  Levites  had  not  softened  the  sinews  of 
thy  native  valor.  Honored  spouses  these,  whom  thou 
hast  preferred  to  Brutus  and  to  Scipio!  A  fine  ex- 
change, a  shrewd  judgment,  forsooth!  She  who  had  the 
universe  for  slave  now  sings  psalms,  and  a  mitre  is  the 
crest  of  her  helmet."^  A  sad  truth,  we  confess;  but  a 
trutli  that  comes  strangely  from  lips  wliich  liave  just 
lauded  the  mitred  leader  of  the  psahu-singiug  choir,  and 
which,  a  little  later,  laiuled  the  new  tyrants.  In  tlie 
anthologies,  Monti  still  holds  a  c()nsi(ler;il)li'  tit-ld,  and 
editors  still  append  footnotes  exhorting  the  studious  youth 
to  be  thrilled  at  the  proper  passages,  but  to  nit'  the  read- 
ing of  Monti's  ])oems  gives  little  pleasure.  The  constant 
inversions,  in  imitation  of  Latin  models,  are  artificial; 
the  alleged  grandeur  is  grandiose.  Monti  does  not  soar 
like  a  bird;  lie  leaps  like  a  kangaroo,  and  while  he  siir- 
])rises  you  by  the  height  and  length  of  soiiu' of  his  l)ouiids, 
you  see  that  he  is  (|uieklv  on  the   earth  again.      Between 

'   0(k-  IKT  il  Coii^-ivHsi)  d'  rdiiif.   IT'.'T. 


106  THE   DAWN   OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

leap  and  leap  there  is  a  succession  of  very  fluent,  often 
melodious,  commonplaces.  In  this  respect,  he  resembles 
the  English  poet  Young;  and  if  his  verse  has  a  larger 
space  allotted  to  it  in  Italian  manuals  than  Young's  has 
in  English  manuals,  it  is  not  because  he  excels  Young, 
but  because  English  poetry  has  had  many  subsequent 
poets  far  superior  to  Young,  whereas  later  Italy  has  had 
few  superior  to  Monti;  and  because,  above  all,  Monti  is 
associated  with  a  great  period  in  Italy's  growth,  whereas 
Young  speaks  to  us  out  of  a  period  when  the  poetic  life 
of  England  was  barren. 

Of  different  stamp  was  Ugo  Foscolo,  born  in  1779  on 
the  island  of  Zante,  then  a  Venetian  possession.  His 
father,  a  physician,  was  a  Venetian,  his  mother.  Dia- 
mante Spaty,  a  Greek.  Foscolo 's  first  schoolbooks  were 
Plutarch  and  Xenophon.  After  his  father's  death,  his 
mother  and  her  children  settled  at  Venice  in  1793.  Ugo 
attended  the  lectures  of  Melchior  Cesarotti  at  the  Univer- 
sity of  Pa  via;  he  was  precocious  in  versifying,  and  was 
swept,  while  still  a  youth,  into  the  current  of  active  life 
by  the  revolutionary  tumults  in  Italy.  In  a  fine  ode  he 
addressed  Bonaparte  as  the  "Liberator,"  but  when,  soon 
afterwards,  Bonaparte  by  the  deceitful  treaty  of  Campo 
Formio  extinguished  the  Republic  of  Venice  and  sold 
Venetia  to  Austria,  Foscolo 's  illusions  as  to  the  probity 
of  the  Liberator  were  dispelled.  Upon  Napoleon's  return 
from  Egypt,  the  young  poet  republished  the  ode,  adding 
thereto  a  dedication  in  which  he  exhorted  the  victor  to 
fulfill  his  mission  as  the  bringer  of  liberty,  and  not  of  ser- 
vitude, to  the  distressed  nations.  "Our  age,"  he  said, 
"will  have  a  Tacitus,  who  will  hand  down  your  sentence 
to  severe  posterity."  But  Napoleon's  ambition,  having 
tasted  power,  was  not  to  be  satiated  by  patriotic  appeals ; 
he  assiuned  the  title  of  Emperor  in  France,  and  converted 
the  Cisalpine  Republic  into  the  Kingdom  of  Italy,  of 
which  he  was  king.     Foscolo    tacitly  submitted    to  the 


NEW   VOICES   AND   KEVOLUTION.  107 

change,  tacitly,  but  not  ignobly ;  he  served  in  the  imperial 
army  in  France,  and  accepted  the  chair  of  oratory  at 
Pavia,  but  thenceforth  he  wrote  no  praises  of  Napoleon. 
Indeed,  he  took  so  little  pains  to  disguise  his  republican 
opinions  that  his  professorship  was  soon  abolished,  and 
he  had  to  shift  as  best  he  could.  Literature  is  at  all 
times  a  precarious  profession,  but  never  more  precarious 
than  when  the  free  utterance  of  authors  is  muzzled ;  to 
Foscolo's  credit  be  it  recorded  that,  unlike  Monti,  he 
never  spiced  his  speech  to  the  taste  of  his  censors.  In 
1811  he  brought  out  at  the  Scala  Theatre  in  Milan  a 
tragedy  called  "Agamemnon;  "  the  official  ferrets  scented 
in  it  meanings  which  the  author  disavowed :  Agamemnon, 
they  said,  was  intended  for  Napoleon,  Ajax  was  the  exiled 
General  Moreau,  and  Ulysses  was  Fouche,  Im})erial  Min- 
ister of  Police.  The  play  was  prohibited  and  Foscolo 
banished.  Three  years  later,  when  the  Napoleonic  king- 
dom was  tottering,  he  returned  to  Milan  and  took  part  in 
the  unsuccessful  attempt  to  resist  the  Austrians ;  but  when 
they  had  by  craft  reestablished  themselves,  and  required 
every  Italian  to  swear  allegiance  to  Francis,  Foscolo  re- 
fused and  fled  to  Switzerland.  lie  went  thence  to  Eng- 
land, and  wore  out  the  remainder  of  his  life  in  exile,  writ- 
ing articles  for  the  English  reviews  and  giving  lessons  in 
Italian.      lie  died  there  in  1827. 

Foscolo's  poems  are  more  genuine  than  ^Monti's,  for 
they  spring  out  of  the  man's  soul,  and  not  out  of  liis  in- 
tellect. The  poet  does  not  set  traps  for  tht;  a])])robati<)n 
of  critics,  nor  for  the  ducats  of  patrons.  Patriotism 
finds  in  them  nothing  to  blot,  notliing  to  extenuate.  AVhcn 
the  French,  in  one  of  their  di'inocratic  deliriums,  were  for 
])rohil)iting  the  erection  of  tombstones  ;ind  otlier  memo- 
rials to  the  (lead,  as  being  a  custom  wliei-eby  the  aristo- 
cratic and  rieli  disphiyed  even  in  (U-ath  a  jioinp  and  an 
arrogance  inconsistent  with  ])oor  but  hniest  (h-mocracv, 
Foscolo  —  in   his  most  noted   poem,  "The  Sepuli-iu-cs  " — 


108  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

defended  the  practice,  and  showed  how  the  tombs  of 
heroes  keep  alive  the  memory  of  noble  deeds  and  rebuke 
the  littleness  of  posterity.  He  described  himself  as  a 
man  who  heard  the  continual  rumbling-  of  passions  within 
him,  as  being  ""rich  in  vices  and  in  virtues;"  and,  so 
bitter  was  exile,  as  being  "sad  for  the  most  part  and  sol- 
itary, ever  pensive,  and  incredulous  alike  of  hope  and 
fear."  A  man  of  great  gifts,  impulsive,  quick  to  resent 
wrongs  and  quick  to  forgive  them,  although  he  wrote  a 
Wertherian  romance,  yet  he  could  endure  to  live  in  spite 
of  disillusions  more  poignant  than  those  which  drove  his 
hero,  Jacopo  Ortis,  to  suicide.  In  the  weariness  of  exile 
he  served  his  country  better  than  he  knew,  by  acquaint- 
ing Englishmen  with  the  genius  of  Dante  and  by  showing 
them  the  almost  unknown  spectacle  of  an  incorruptible 
Italian,  who  preferred  banishment  and  poverty  abroad  to 
oppression  and  sycophancy  at  home.  Italians  could  bet- 
ter spare  Foscolo's  writings  from  their  literature  than  his 
example  of  integrity  from  their  history. 

These  two  men  represent  the  two  prominent  classes  into 
which  Italians  were  divided  during  the  Napoleonic  era, 
and  for  nearly  a  generation  beyond  it.  The  one,  facile 
and  unscrupulous,  preferred  liberty  in  theory,  but  bent 
the  pregnant  hinges  of  the  knee  to  any  master  from  whom 
rewards  and  favors  could  be  obtained;  the  other,  setting 
principles  above  self,  sacrificed  seK  rather  than  submit. 
From  the  former  class  no  good  came,  nor  could  come ; 
by  the  latter  was  slowly  accumulated  that  moral  force 
which  alone  could  make  Italy  worthy  of  freedom,  and 
could  endure  all  shocks,  all  rebuffs,  until  freedom  was  at 
last  won.  There  was,  besides,  a  third  class,  composed  of 
the  princes  of  the  Old  Kcgime  and  of  their  ])arasites  and 
proteges,  who  wei"e  consistently  and  inflexibly  hostile  to 
any  change  wliich  threatened  to  diminish  their  inlierited 
])rivileges.  The  eighteenth  century  approaclied  its  last 
decade,  but  tliesc  deluded  creatures  still  dwelt  in  their 
mediaeval  paradise,  and  thought  it  permanent. 


NEW   VOICES   AND   REVOLUTION.  109 

The  Revolutionary  War  in  America  set  a  dangerous 
example  to  Europe,  but  the  Italians  no  more  thought  of 
imitating  the  sturdy  colonists,  than  of  flying  when  they 
saw  a  hawk  circle  above  them.  The  existence  of  the 
American  Republic  doubtless  made  independence  seem 
possible,  but  I  cannot  discover  that  it  had  as  yet  excited 
more  than  a  languid  interest  in  Italy,  when  the  French 
Revolution  burst  forth  terrific.  Since  the  subversion  of 
the  Roman  Empire  under  the  flood  of  Teutonic  invasion, 
such  a  catastrophe  had  not  been  known.  Now,  as  then, 
a  regime  which  had  endured  for  so  many  centuries  tliat 
Europeans  had  come  to  regard  it  as  eternal,  was  con- 
fronted by  strange,  terrible  enemies,  who  seemed  to  be 
agents  of  chaos  and  anarchy.  These  enemies  were  not 
Goths,  nor  Huns,  nor  Turks,  but  members  of  the  very 
social  system  which  liad  been  created  and  held  togetlu'r  by 
the  Old  Regime;  the  struggle,  therefore,  was  not  between 
the  civilized  and  the  barbarians,  but  between  one  class 
and  another,  between  the  privileged  few  and  the  unpriv- 
ileged many.  Aristocracy  found  itself  set  upon  by  its 
great  pack  of  underlings,  like  Acta?on  by  his  hoiuuls. 
No  wonder  that  the  wisest  spectators  of  that  contest  failed 
to  realize  its  import.  Little  guessed  Mirabeau,  when  he 
flung  down  deliance  to  the  king's  messenger  at  the  Tennis 
Court,  whither  the  current  was  sweeping;  little  foresaw 
Burke,  when  he  looked  aghast  at  the  orgies  of  the  Reign 
of  Terror,  that  in  those  convulsions,  though  the  old  world- 
order  was  passing  away,  a  new  and  juster  one  was  coming 
into  life. 

When  such  men  were  unaware  of  the  mighty  cliange 
impending,  it  is  not  to  l)e  supposed  that  the  jjrinces  of 
Italy  iniderstood  at  first  tlie  omens  Hashing  across  the 
skies  France-ward.  Tlieir  anxiety  was  pei'haps  as  great 
as  that  of  onewlio  receives  news  that  a  neighbor  is  sufTer- 
ing  from  an  acute  but  not  deadly  fever.  Pmtwiieii  Freiicli 
royahy  was   insulted,    iinprisoiied.  mid    tlien    gudlotiiied. 


110  THE   DAWN   OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

they  realized  their  owai  danger,  and  prayed  that  the  allied 
monarchies  of  Europe  might  dispatch  the  revolutionary 
monster  at  Paris.  Then  was  the  time  for  Italy  to  free 
herself.  But  those  Italians  who  read  Alfieri  and  dreamed 
of  liberty  were  too  divided,  too  unskilled  to  seize  the  op- 
portunity held  out  to  them.  The  habit  of  ten  centuries 
made  them  look  to  foreign  lands  for  leadership.  At  the 
most,  they  trusted  that  in  the  amazing  changes,  Fortune 
would  assist  them.  The  mere  fact  of  change  was  a  most 
encouraging  prognostic.  Like  gamblers,  they  watched 
the  wheel  a-spinning,  and  relied  upon  their  luck.  And 
suddenly,  beyond  all  expectations,  a  leader  arose. 

Napoleon,  leaping  on  the  back  of  the  revolutionary 
Bucephalus,  rode  him  over  Europe,  and  where  his  hoofs 
struck,  the  earth  quaked  and  thrones  toppled  over.  Na- 
poleon, himself  an  Italian,  galloped  down  into  Italy,  swept 
the  armies  of  Austria  before  him,  appealed  to  the  Italians 
to  strike  for  freedom,  promised  them  independence,  and 
then,  caught  in  a  frenzy  of  selfish  ambition,  he  broke  his 
promise,  and  made  Italy  an  appendage  of  his  Empire. 
The  Cisalpine  Republic  was  transformed  into  a  kingdom 
governed  by  his  stepson  Beauharnais ;  Etruria  was  a  toy 
for  his  sister  Eliza ;  the  Parthenopean  Republic  became 
a  kingdom  ruled  by  his  brother-in-law  Murat.  Napoleon 
undeniably  betrayed  the  hope  of  the  Italians,  but  even 
in  betraying  he  benefited  them.  He  was  a  great  reality, 
stalking  over  Europe  and  exposing  immemorial  shams. 
By  a  stroke  of  the  pen  he  signed  the  burial-certificate 
of  the  Holy  Roman  Empire;  he  touched  the  Republic  of 
Venice,  and  it  dissolved  in  ashes,  as  the  body  of  a  queen 
crumbles  when  its  sepulchre  is  opened;  he  carried  the 
Pope  about  with  him,  like  a  parrot  in  a  cage ;  he  made 
ridiculous  the  old  tactics  in  war;  he  made  obsolete  the 
old  methods  in  peace ;  he  set  uj)  Merit  instead  of  Privi- 
lege to  be  the  ladder  of  promotion.  While  Bourbons  or 
Ilohenzollerns  or  Ilapsburgs  or  Romanoffs  slunk  away  in 


NEW   VOICES    AND   REVOLUTION.  Ill 

terror  from  the  back  door  of  their  palace,  he  strode  im- 
periously through  the  front  portal,  mounted  the  grand 
staircase,  sat  in  the  king's  seat  in  the  banqueting-hall, 
and  slept  in  the  royal  bed.  He  put  the  Iron  Crown  of 
Charlemain  on  his  upstart  brow  and  distributed  half  the 
sceptres  of  Europe  among  his  vulgarian  relatives  —  that 
was  the  rcductio  ad  ahsurdam  of  that  old  pretense,  the 
divine  right  of  kings,  lie  manufactured  an  aristocracy 
as  easily  as  he  had  organized  an  army,  raising  butchers' 
sons,  taverners,  and  lawyers'  clerks  to  princijjalities  and 
dukedoms,  and  grafting  them  by  marriage  on  the  loftiest 
family  trees. 

The  Empire  he  founded  fell,  because  he,  too,  lost  his 
hold  upon  reality  and  came  to  make  compacts  with  im- 
postures; but  the  effect  of  his  deeds  remained.  Such 
might  of  pure  intellect  has  been  applied  to  State  affairs 
by  no  other  man  unless  by  Ciesar.  Astonished,  you 
follow  him  through  court  to  camj),  and  from  camp  to 
council,  yet  you  have  not  seen  his  activity  Hag.  He  had 
time  for  framing  codes  and  appointing  a  legion  of  office- 
holders; for  building  bridges  and  laying  out  roads;  for 
scandal  and  amours;  for  reading  the  correspondence  of 
numberless  envoys;  for  deciding  where  a  picture  should 
be  hung  or  a  statue  erected;  for  discussing  antitpiities 
witli  Denon  and  Champollion;  for  devising  liveries  for 
his  lackeys  and  miiforms  for  his  generals:  for  ridiculing 
his  wife's  dresses  and  liis  sister's  nianiieis.  Nothing 
esca])ed  his  intellect,  —  it  took  in  the  most  weighty  busi- 
ness and  the  most  trivial.  In  mental  vigoi-  he  was  a 
coh)ssus,  in  moral  character  a  dwtiif :  carnal  and  seHish 
as  a  m;in,  yet  imperial  beyond  all  others  as  a  conciueror. 
He  did  not  create  tht;  Revolution,  l)ut  lie  had  the  ])owei-, 
and  he  alone,  to  grasp  the  thunderbolts  the  Revolution 
liad  forged,  and  to  hurl  them  as  if  lie  were  dove.  lie  so 
identilied  tliat  movement,  which  had  been  long  maturing, 
with  his  personal  fortunes,  as   to  blind    iMiropc   lor   more 


112  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

than  a  generation  to  the  irresistible  principles  behind 
him.  She  imagined  that  in  crushing  him  she  could  crush 
the  new  world-order  and  restore  the  Past.  Fame  shone 
round  him,  as  from  a  sun,  lighting  up  all  who  came 
near  him,  were  they  friends  or  foes;  a  troop  of  lesser 
men  —  Wellington,  Nelson,  Bliicher,  Schwarzenberg, 
Archduke  Charles,  Wittgenstein,  Kutusoff  —  won  endur- 
ing renown  merely  in  resisting  him.  But '  Napoleon's 
great  achievement  was  to  discredit  the  Past.  Force  less 
Titanic  than  his  could  not  have  broken  up  the  petrified 
crust  of  European  society.  He  seemed  to  his  contempo- 
raries a  destructive  whirlwind ;  but  after  he  had  passed, 
they  beheld  the  seeds  of  regeneration  springing  up  in  his 
track. 

Thus  when  Napoleon  reconstructed  Europe,  Italy  did 
not  attain  independence ;  she  did  not  even  get  unity,  for 
the  master-carver  cut  her  into  several  slices  to  feed  his 
favorite  dogs  of  war:  nevertheless,  she  gained  much. 
She  woke  from  torpor  to  activity;  she  lived  in  the  Pres- 
ent. Instead  of  being  stranded  like  a  rotting  hulk,  she 
was  once  more  swept  into  the  current  of  European  des- 
tiny. The  Napoleonic  administration,  though  autocratic, 
was  centuries  in  advance  of  that  of  Pope  or  Bourbon. 
The  watchword  of  the  new  era,  "Za  cnrriere  otirerte  au.r. 
talcnts,^^  called  for  able  officials;  antiquated  placemen 
were  laid  on  the  shelf.  Civilians  succeeded  to  ecclesias- 
tics in  every  department  of  government.  The  Code 
Napoleon  did  away  with  mediaeval  courts,  recognized 
equality  before  the  law,  and  promoted  respect  for  justice. 
Incessant  campaigns  and  the  military  conscri])tion  not 
only  made  the  Italians  fighters, — between  1796  and 
1814,  Italy  furnished  360,000  soldiers  to  the  imperial 
armies,  —  but  also  broke  down  provincial  barriers  and 
encouraged  national  spirit.  It  was  something  to  fight  for 
the  Kingdom  of  Italy,  though  that  kingdom  had  a  foreign 
sovereign.      Tlie  Lombard  who  marched  side  by  side  with 


NEW    VOICES    AND   REVOLUTION.  113 

the  Romagnole  or  the  Neapolitan  felt  that  they  came  of 
the  same  kindred  and  had  interests  in  common.  Above 
all,  Italy  learned  that  her  petty  princes  and  even  the 
Pope  himself,  whom  they  had  regarded  as  necessary  and 
incurable  evils,  could  be  ousted  by  a  strong  hand.  Thus 
were  the  Italians  rejuvenated  by  contact  with  the  Eu- 
ropean Autocrat;  thus  did  they  store  up  some  of  the 
strength  and  courage  which  are  given  out  in  days  of 
stress  and  mighty  undertakings.  Perceiving  that  they 
could  not  act  for  themselves  whilst  Napoleon  lived,  they 
looked  forward  to  his  death  as  the  signal  for  new 
changes,  out  of  which  they  might  pluck  the  fulfilment  of 
their  desire. 

And  here  we  may  close  our  retrospect  of  the  growth  of 
Italy.  Henceforth  we  shall  follow  the  Italians  in  their 
struggle  to  secure  independence  and  unity  by  means  of 
elements  and  against  obstacles  which  many  centuries 
had  prepared  for  them.  That  struggle  was  all  the  harder 
because  of  the  conflict  among  these  elements  and  because 
the  Past  has  had  over  no  other  European  people  so  strong 
and  paralyzing  a  hold  as  over  the  Italians.  Institutions 
which  at  one  era  had  been  beneficial  remained  like  the 
trunks  of  dead  trees  overgrown  with  living  vines;  how  to 
cut  down  the  dead  and  save  the  living  was  tlie  task  be- 
fore Italy. 

In  our  retrospect  we  have  seen  liow  the  Roman  Empire 
gi-ew  languid  in  prosjx'rity,  then  rotted  in  vice,  and 
finally  fell  asimder;  how  tlie  Teutonic  invaders,  liaviiig 
coTKiucred,  gradually  mixed  witli  tlie  races  of  western 
Europe,  and  how,  from  the  niiii^liiiLT.  new  races  were 
born.  AVe  have  seen  tlie  I'isliop  of  Home  lift  liiniself 
into  the  ])nma('y  of  the  ("liristian  world  and  unite  with 
C'harleniaiii  to  organize  society  under  a  dual  government; 
and  how  the  Po])e  stealthilv  I'eaduMl  forth  his  hand  and 
surely  seized  temporal  power.      \Ve  have  glaneed  at  Fi'U- 


114  THE   DAWN   OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

dalism,  the  source  of  mediaeval  and  modern  class  distinc- 
tions ;  we  have  surveyed  the  rise  and  overweening  expan- 
sion of  the  priesthood,  with  its  demoralizing  asceticism, 
—  whence  came  the  divorce  between  conduct  and  profes- 
sion ;  we  have  noted  the  solidification  of  dogmas,  — 
whence  came  the  divorce  between  reason  and  faith.  We 
have  seen  a  multitude  of  small  republics  spring  into  ner- 
vous life,  toss  and  waste  themselves  in  internecine  feuds 
and  local  jealousies,  and  remember  only  their  mutual 
spites  when,  exhausted,  they  succumbed  to  tyrants.  We 
have  seen  Italy  the  prey  of  foreign  invaders,  —  of  Sara- 
cens, Franks,  Normans,  Germans,  French,  Spaniards, 
who  robbed  her  treasure  and  stultified  her  people.  We 
have  seen  her  genius  express  itself  in  many  forms :  how 
Italy  was  the  pioneer  in  commerce  and  industry;  how 
letters  revived  through  her  enthusiasm;  how  Dante, 
greatest  of  her  sons,  broke  the  spell  of  antiquity;  how, 
having  formulated  and  maintained  the  religion  of  Chris- 
tendom, she  was  the  first  to  feel  the  liberating  breath  of 
the  Renaissance,  which  carried  to  other  lands  principles  by 
which  the  unique  tyranny  of  that  religion  was  destroyed. 
And  just  as  the  rest  of  the  world  was  becoming  more  tol- 
erant, we  have  seen  the  rivets  of  clericalism  driven  deeper 
into  her  soul,  —  Inquisitors  burning  her  liberal  thinkers 
at  the  stake,  Jesuits  repressing  education  and  control- 
ling government.  We  have  seen  her  aristocracy  slip 
down  from  magnificent  licentiousness  to  brutality,  and 
from  brutality  to  the  emasculate  follies  of  Arcadia.  Yet 
we  saw,  too,  that  she  put  forth  new  branches  from  her 
aged  stem,  —  Science,  Music,  the  Drama,  —  and  that 
each  bore  fruit.  We  have  seen  the  dark  shadows  of 
Spain  and  Austria  hanging  like  a  pall  over  her  land,  and 
then  Napoleonic  clouds  blo\vn  across  her  sky,  still  dark, 
but  with  fitful  gleams  breaking  through  the  rifts.  We 
have  seen  her  debased  by  servitude  to  foreign  conquerors, 
debased  by  the  treachery  of  native  tyrants,  debased  by 


NEW    VOICES    AND    REVOLUTION.  115 

the  hypocrisy,  worldliness,  and  superstition  of  her  Church. 
And  we  have  seen  that  from  the  time  of  Charlemain  to 
the  time  of  Napoleon,  she  was  never  mistress  of  herself, 
but  always  the  victim  of  foreign  rapacity.  All  this  was 
her  inheritance,  when,  at  the  beginning  of  the  nineteenth 
century,  she  seriously  resolved  to  be  free.  Like  a  beau- 
tiful woman  under  the  si)ell  of  a  mesmerist,  she  had  so 
often  sinned  and  been  so  often  baffled  in  her  efforts  to 
recover  her  freedom,  that  she  had  begun  to  despair  of 
her  will-power:  then  Napoleon  came  and  banished  her 
Evil  Genuis  for  a  time,  and  the  fibres  of  her  will  tingled 
with  new  strength.  Can  she  revive?  Can  a  nation,  like 
a  man,  turn  from  a  career  of  shame  and  rise,  not  only 
above  the  effects,  but  also  above  the  memory  of  evil  ways  ? 
To  this  question  the  following  pages  of  this  history  will 
give  in  part  an  answer. 


BOOK  SECOND. 

THE   DOOM   OF  TYRANNY. 

Liberty  va  cercando,  clie  6  si  cara, 
Come  sa  chi  per  lei  vita  rifiuta. 

Dante,  Purgatorio,  i,  71,  72. 

CHAPTER  I. 

THE   CONGRESS   OF   VIENNA. 

In  the  month  of  March,  1815,  the  Congress  of  Vienna 
had  been  five  months  in  session.  After  twenty  years  of 
warfare,  the  royalties  and  aristocracies  of  Europe  were 
assembled  to  celebrate  the  return  of  peace.  So  august  a 
concourse  had  not  been  seen  in  modern  times :  two  em- 
perors, several  kings,  potentates  by  the  dozen  and  diplo- 
mats by  the  score,  with  their  retinues  and  their  regi- 
ments, with  women  and  with  prelates,  made  boundless 
jubilee,  and  promised  each  other  that  the  Old  Regime 
thus  happily  restored  should  nevermore  be  disturbed. 
Revelry  by  night,  endless  chatter  by  day;  monarchs 
amusing  themselves  with  the  dissipations  of  one  of  the 
naughtiest  capitals  of  Europe ;  ministers  inditing  proto- 
cols and  memoranda;  courtly  urbanity  on  tlie  surface, 
reptilian  intrigues  and  jealousies  and  hatreds  in  tlie 
depths;  balls,  masquerades,  banquets,  and  hiuiting  par- 
ties alternating  with  conferences  and  ma])-makings ; 
princes,  dames,  milliners,  pastry-cooks,  and  lackeys  all 
toiling  without  truce  in  this  carnival  of  gayety,  — ■  such 
was  the  mixture  of  business  and  play  at  Vienna  during 
the  winter  of  1814-1815.      For  the  Lion  who  had  so  lone: 


THE   CONGRESS   OF   VIENNA.  117 

desolated  Europe  had  been  overpowered,  and  was  now 
caged  in  Elba,  wherefore  the  lesser  beasts  were  met  to 
carouse  over  his  capture  and  to  divide  his  booty.  Rey- 
nard the  Fox,  his  Excellency  Prince  Metternich,  acted 
as  master  of  ceremonies  and  distributor  of  spoils.  But 
the  proceedings  were  so  slow,  and  so  often  interrui)ted  by 
festivities,  that  one  of  the  revelers,  the  cynical  Prince  de 
Ligne,  declared  that  "/e  Coiujres  danse,  mais  ne  marche 
pas,^^  "the  Congress  dances,  but  does  not  advance." 
Nevertheless,  by  the  beginning  of  Marcli,  the  chief  topics 
had  been  discussed,^  although  the  discussion  had  been 
so  hot  that  there  was  immediate  danger  that  the  peace- 
makers would  fall  to  fighting  among  themselves.  Then, 
happily  for  them,  news  was  brought  that  the  Lion  had 
escaped  from  his  cage. 

On  the  morning  of  ^larch  7  a  servant  brought  a  dis- 
patch to  Prince  Metternich,  who  was  still  in  bed.  He 
saw  the  words,  "Urgent,  from  the  Consul  General  at 
Genoa,"  but  being  sleepy,  he  turned  over  for  another 
nap.  Unable  to  sleep,  however,  he  reached  for  the  en- 
velope, broke  the  seal,  and  read,  "The  English  Commis- 
sary, Campbell,  has  just  appeared  in  the  harbor,  to  in- 
quire whether  Napoleon  has  been  seen  in  Genoa,  as  he 
has  disa])peared  from  the  Islaiul  of  Elba;  this  (jucstion 
being  answered  in  the  negative,  the  Englisli  ship  has 
again  })ut  out  to  sea."  Mettei-nich  rose  at  once.  "J  was 
dressed  in  a  few  minut(^s,"  lie  says,  "and  before  eight 
o'clock  I  was  with  the  P^mpcror.  He  read  tlie  dispatch, 
and  said  to  me  (piietly  and  calmly,  as  he  always  did  on 
great  occasions:  'Napoleon  seems  to  wish  to  ]>l:iy  the  ad- 
venturer: that  is  his  coiicei-n:  ours  is  to  secure  to  the 
world  that  peace  which  he  has  disturl)ed  for  years,      (io 

'  The  f'i)ii{jT(>ss  li;i(l  two  Kpssioiis.  namely,  that  of  the  Firr  Poinrs  — 
Austria,  liussia,  I'l'ussia.  Kraiiec.  aii<l  Kiij;laii(l ;  and  that  of  tlic  Kiijltt 
I'dinrs.  ill  which.  l>csi(h's  these  five,  Spain.  rortuj;;iI,  and  Swech'ii  look 
part.      All  the  smaller  Slates  had  also  aetiediti'd  represeiit.itives. 


118  THE   DAWN   OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

without  delay  to  the  Emperor  of  Russia  and  the  King  of 
Prussia,  aud  tell  them  that  I  am  ready  to  order  my  army 
back  to  France.  I  do  not  doubt  but  that  both  monarchs 
will  agree  with  me. '  At  a  quarter  past  eight  I  was  with 
the  Emperor  Alexander,  who  dismissed  me  with  the  same 
words  as  the  Emperor  Francis  had  used.  At  half  past 
eight  I  received  a  similar  declaration  from  the  mouth  of 
King  Frederick  William  III.  At  nine  o'clock  I  was  at 
my  house  again,  where  I  had  directed  the  Field-Marshal 
Prince  Schwarzenberg  to  meet  me.  At  ten  o'clock  the 
ministers  of  the  four  Powers  came  at  my  request.  At  the 
same  hour  adjutants  were  already  on  their  way  in  all  di- 
rections, to  order  the  armies  to  halt  who  were  returning 
home.     Thus  war  was  decided  on  in  less  than  an  hour."  ^ 

From  this  official  report  we  learn  that  in  cases  of  emer- 
gency imperial  chancellors  can  make  haste,  and  that  au- 
gust monarchs  can  dispense  with  the  usual  ambages  of 
ceremonial.  History  records  no  other  instance  where  two 
emperors  and  a  king,  in  night-cap  and  ruffled  night-gown, 
declared  war  in  bed  at  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning.  But 
the  resolve  thus  promptly  taken  was  prosecuted  with 
viojor.  And  while  the  Allied  Armies  were  driving:  Na- 
poleon  to  bay,  the  diplomats  at  Vienna  proceeded  to  fin- 
ish their  partition  of  spoils.  On  June  9,  1815,  just  nine 
days  before  Waterloo,  the  articles  of  the  treaty  were 
signed,  the  distribution  was  completed,  and  the  Congress 
adjourned. 

The  principle  which  guided  the  Congress  was  very  sim- 
ple. "We  will  ignore  the  Revolution  and  its  results,  and 
restore  Europe  to  its  condition  previous  to  1789,"  said 
the  monarchs  and  their  minions.  But,  as  mvich  had  been 
destroyed  which  could  not  be  replaced,  and  as  the  events 
of  a  quarter  of  a  century  had  brought  the  various  Powers 
into  new  relations,  it  was  decided  to  make  a  fresh  parti- 
tion where  restoration  was  impossible.      One  common  in- 

^  Metternich  :   Memoirs  (New  York,  ISSl),  i,  254-5. 


THE   CONGRESS  OF    VIENNA.  119 

terest,  the  need  of  exterminating  the  revolutionary  spirit, 
bound  the  sovereigns  together;  after  deferring  to  this, 
each  grabbed  as  much  for  his  private  use  as  his  neighbors 
woukl  permit.  The  strongest  took  large  slices ;  the  weak, 
but  not  less  greedy,  snarled  over  the  crumbs  and  morsels 
that  remained.  When  it  came  to  cutting  up  Italy,  which 
had  from  time  immemorial  set  forth  a  feast  for  foreign 
despots,  there  was  much  wrangling,  much  envy;  but 
Metternich  held  the  knife  and  carved  to  suit  himself. 

After  Napoleon's  first  abdication  in  1814,  most  of  the 
Italian  States  saw  that  their  old  rulers  would  return ;  but 
Murat  still  held  the  Kingdom  of  Naples  and  Beauharnais 
the  Northern  Kingdom.  Now  it  was  decided  that  Austria 
should  annex  Venetia,  Milan,  and  Mantua,  together  with 
Istria  and  Dalmatia  on  the  eastern  shore  of  the  Adriatic.^ 
To  the  Archduke  Francis  of  Este,  an  Austrian,  were 
allotted  the  Duchies  of  JSIodena,  Keggio,  and  Mirandola; 
the  Archduchess  Mary  Beatrix  of  Este  received  the  Duchy 
of  Massa,  the  Principality  of  Carrara,  and  imperial  fiefs 
in  the  Lunigiana.^  The  King  of  Piedmont,  who  had  lived 
in  retreat  on  the  island  of  Sardinia  during  the  Napoleonic 
upheaval,  had  to  cede  a  part  of  Savoy  to  the  Canton  of 
Geneva,  for  which  he  was  compensated  by  the  Republic  of 
Genoa. ^  The  Genoese  protested;  they  pointed  to  their 
long  career  of  liberty  and  to  their  ])ast  glory ;  they  begged 
to  be  allowed  to  j)reserve  the  independent  government 
whicli  Lord  Bentinck  liad  recently  set  uj).  Their  envoy. 
Marquis  Brignole,  pleaded  ehxpiently,  but  in  vain ;  the 
Powers  wislied  to  make  the  Kinjr  of  Piedmont  stronj; 
enojigh  to  resist  ])()ssil)le  French  invasions,  and  acc(>rd- 
ingly,  in  .January,  181"),  he  took  ])osscssion  of  the  Cieno- 
ese.'*  Wlien  it  came  to  the  (jiu-stiou  of  Tuscany  and 
Parma,  the  Spanisli  ])l<'iiij)ott'ntiary  Labrador  and  tlie 
French  ])lenipotentiary  Talh'yrand  fouglit  liard  for  their 

'  Treaty  of  Vienn.-i,  §  '.•:'..  -  Treaty.  §  '.tS,  ^  Tn-aty,  §§  SO,  S."). 

*  FlusHau  :   Ilistuire  du  Coiiyris  dc  ]'inine  (I'aris,  ISli'J),  ii,  S'.t. 


120  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

respective  governments;  but  Metternich  stopped  their  ar- 
guments by  bluntly  declaring  that  "the  Tuscan  matter  is 
not  an  object  of  discussion,  but  of  war."  ^  Archduke  Fer- 
dinand of  Austria  was  therefore  restored  to  Tuscany,  with 
sovereignty  over  the  Principality  of  Pionibino,  of  which 
Prince  Ludovisi  Buoncompagni  enjoyed  the  revenues; 
Maria  Louisa,  daughter  of  the  Emperor  of  Austria,  and 
wife  of  Napoleon,  was  given  the  Duchies  of  Parma,  Pia- 
cenza,  and  Guastalla,  the  succession  to  be  determined 
later.2  To  the  other  Maria  Louisa,  Infanta  of  Spain, 
and  her  son  Charles  Louis,  was  offered  the  Principality 
of  Lucca  together  with  a  perpetual  annuity  of  500,000 
livres;  an  offer  which  she,  who  had  once  enjoyed  the 
sounding  title  of  Queen  of  Etruria,  at  first  refused,  but 
subsequently  accepted.  It  was  agreed  that  at  the  extinc- 
tion of  her  line,  Lucca  should  revert  to  the  Grand  Duke 
of  Tuscany.^  Cardinal  Consalvi  urged  that  to  the  Pope 
be  restored  those  possessions  from  which  he  had  been 
driven.  The  Cardinal  pleaded,  "not  from  temporal  mo- 
tives, but  for  the  maintenance  of  oaths  taken  by  the  Pon- 
tiff at  his  elevation,  —  oaths  according  to  which  he  coiild 
alienate  nothing  from  the  domains  of  the  Church,  of 
which  he  was  only  the  usufructuary."  ^  The  pious  request 
was  heard;  the  Pope  was  again  temporal  lord  of  the 
Marches,  of  Camerino  and  its  dependencies,  of  Benevento 
and  Ponte  Corvo,  —  these  two  were  embedded  in  Nea- 
politan territory,  —  and  of  the  Legations,  Ravenna,  Bo- 
logna, Forli,  and  Ferrara.  But  he  grumbled  because 
Avignon  and  the  Venaissin  in  Southeastern  France  were 
taken  from  him,  and  because  Aiistria,  in  order  to  com- 
plete her  military  frontier,  insisted  on  keeping  garrisons 
in  Ferrara  and  Comacchio.^  Ferdinand  IV,  who,  thanks 
to  the  English,  had  been  able  to  hold  Sicily  whilst  the 
French  were  in  Naples,  was  restored  to  his  realm  on  the 

1  Flassan,  ii,  106.  ^  Treaty,  §§  99,  100.  ^  Treaty,  §  101. 

*  Flassan,  ii,  118.  5  Treaty,  §  103. 


THE   CONGRESS   OF    VIENNA.  121 

mainland.  Such  were  the  provisions,  so  far  as  concerned 
Italy,  of  the  treaty  signed  and  sealed  by  the  European 
spoils-distributors,  "in  the  name  of  the  Most  Holy  and 
Indivisible  Trinity,"  at  Vienna,  June  9,  1815. 

Were  the  Italians  satisfied?  No.  Had  they  been 
consulted?  No.  Did  their  dissatisfaction  matter?  No. 
That  generous  but  deluded  knight,  Don  Quixote,  once 
mistook  a  flock  of  sheep  for  a  hostile  army ;  Metternich, 
the  champion  of  the  Old  Regime,  mistook  the  human 
populations  of  Europe  for  sheep.  According  to  him,  the 
Almighty  was  pleased  to  create  a  few  privileged  j)ersons, 
to  whom  the  earth  and  all  that  in  it  dwelt  belonged. 
These  few,  with  their  families,  their  favorites  and  their 
priests,  were  of  a  different  g(nms  from  the  common  lierd 
of  humanity.  Like  She})herd-Kings,  they  drove  their 
people  to  pasture,  or  to  shearing,  or  to  slaughter,  withoxit 
consulting  them.  AV^e  must  confess  that  the  peo])le  had 
too  often,  by  their  stupidity  and  compliance,  justified 
monarchs  in  holding  this  unseientific  view ;  but  at  last  the 
unprivileged  classes  had,  in  the  French  lievolution,  an- 
nounced with  sudden  and  unprecedented  vehemence  that 
they  were  bipeds  and  not  quadrupeds,  and  that  they,  too, 
as  sons  of  Adam,  had  hunum  rights.  jMetternich  and  the 
European  sovereigns  regarded  this  assertion  as  ])roof  that 
a  strange  madness  had  infected  their  sheep;  and  when 
the  flocks  began  to  run  amuck  at  the  heels  of  a  colossal 
bell-wether,  threatening  the  existence  of  shee})-(l()gs  and 
shepherds,  Metternich  and  liis  monarchs  were  amazed; 
})ut  now,  having  bound  tht;  lu'll-wethcr,  it  was  l)elicvcd 
that  the  frenzy  would  soon  sul>si(h',  and  that  the  sheep 
would  graze  as  ])eaceably  as  before.  During  the  ])eriod 
between  1815  and  1848  we  shall  often  hear  Metternich 
tell  the  peoples  of  Europe,  "■  Vou  are  sheep,"  while  the 
])eoples  endeavor  to  prove  by  every  means  in  their  power 
that  they  are  men. 

T(»  understand  this  conilict  we  must  know  the  character 


122  THE    DAWN    OF   ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

and  policy  of  Prince  Metternich,  who  succeeded  to  the 
dictatorship  of  Europe  that  Napoleon  lost  at  Waterloo. 
A  system  has  rarely  been  so  completely  embodied  in  one 
man  as  was  the  revived  Old  Regime  in  Metternich,  who, 
ruling  by  a  few  formulas,  was  himself  a  formula  by 
whose  help  we  can  reduce  to  lowest  terms  the  products  of 
his  time.  Born  of  noble  parents  in  1773,  in  Rhineland, 
he  studied  for  a  while  at  Strasburg,  just  after  a  young 
Corsican  named  Napoleon  Bonaj)arte  had  left  that  Uni- 
versity; he  remembered  with  a  certain  pride  that  the 
same  masters  taught  both  of  them  fencing  and  mathemat- 
ics. His  studies  were  interrupted  by  social  distractions 
into  which  his  father's  position  at  the  Viennese  Court  got 
him  an  early  admittance.  When  but  seventeen  years  old 
he  represented  the  Westphalian  Bench  at  the  coronation 
of  Emperor  Leopold  at  Frankfort,  and  two  years  later  in 
the  same  capacity  he  saw  Francis  I  crowned,  and  he  led 
the  ball  with  the  beautiful  Princess  Louise  of  Mecklen- 
burg, —  afterwards  Queen  of  Prussia  and  mother  of  Wil- 
liam, first  Emperor  of  Germany.  Then  he  followed  his 
father  to  Belgium,  but  the  war  disturbed  his  studies  and 
he  went  to  England,  where  he  became  acquainted  with  the 
leading  politicians  and  inspected  the  mechanism  of  Parlia- 
ment, which,  he  says,  "was  not  without  use  in  his  sub- 
sequent career."  Returning  to  Austria,  he  married  the 
granddaughter  of  Kaunitz,  that  statesman  who  had  been 
the  adviser  of  Maria  Theresa  and  the  antagonist  of  Fred- 
erick the  Great.  On  liis  own  avowal,  Metternich  had  no 
ambition  to  enter  public  life,  for  he  measured  his  abilities 
and  found  them  so  modest  that  he  preferred  to  devote 
himself  to  a  gentlemanlike  pursuit  of  science  and  letters. 
But  Emperor  Francis  saw  promising  qualities  in  him,  and 
bade  him  to  be  ready  against  duty's  summons;  to  which 
the  young  courtier,  despite  his  modesty,  replied  that  he 
would.  His  first  diplomatic  mission  was  to  the  Congress 
of  Rastadt,  which  ended  abortively  through  no  fault  of 


THE   CONGRESS    OF    VIENNA.  123 

his;  then,  in  1801,  he  was  appointed  minister  to  Saxony, 
where  he  began  to  cultivate  his  peculiar  powers.  Dres- 
den was  one  stage  on  the  road  to  Berlin  and  St.  Peters- 
burg, and  offered  him  rich  opportunities  for  studying  the 
intrigues  of  Prussian  and  Russian  emissaries,  and  for 
acquainting  himself  with  the  new  crop  of  European  diplo- 
matists. His  strength  lay  in  watching.  Unimpassioned, 
observant,  patient,  he  could  wait,  like  Jason,  while  the 
dragon  of  the  Revolution  uncoiled  its  huge  bulk  before 
him,  and  then,  where  he  saw  a  vital  spot  bared,  there  he 
plunged  his  sword.  He  knew  his  country's  resources;  he 
knew  his  adversary's  preponderance;  he  had  unfailing 
tact,  unruffled  suavity,  and  he  risked  nothing  by  untimely 
rashness.  His  sojourn  at  Dresden  brought  no  inmiediate 
victory  to  Austria's  schemes,  but  it  secured  his  promotion 
to  the  embassy  at  Berlin.  There,  too,  his  acliievcmeut 
was  seemingly  barren ;  since  he  was  expected  to  bind  the 
fickle  resolution  of  a  king  who  veered  now,  under  the 
instigation  of  Ilaugwitz,  towards  France,  and  now,  under 
the  instigation  of  Hardenberg,  towards  Russia.  War 
broke  out :  Napoleon  crushed  Russia  and  Austria  at  Aus- 
terlitz,  and  Prussia,  in  spite  of  Metternich's  efforts,  had 
so  planned  that,  by  her  insincerity  and  indecision,  she 
was  sure  of  immunity  whichever  might  win.  Still,  Met- 
ternich's efforts  were  not  forgotten.  Francis  nominated 
him  ambassador  to  St.  I*etersburg,  when  Napoleon,  who 
had  taken  a  fancy  to  the  })olished  young  diplomatist, 
requested  that  he  should  be  sent  to  rej)resent  Austria 
at  Paris.  "I  do  not  think  it  was  a  good  ins])iration  of 
Na])oleon's,"  he  writes  in  his  "Memoirs,"  '"which  called 
mo.  to  functions  which  gave  me  the  ()j)|)oi'tuiiity  of  ai)pre- 
ciating  his  excellences,  but  also  tlie  ])()ssibility  of  discov- 
ering the  faults  wliich  at  last  led  liiui  to  ruin,  and  fi-eed 
Euro])e  from  tlie  oppression  under  which  it  lannuishcd."'  ' 
To  Paris  Metttirnieh   went,    i-eluetantly,    but  not   tini- 

'    M(  inoirs,  tJT. 


124  THE    DAWN   OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

idly ;  knowing  the  difficulties  which  lay  before  the  Aus- 
trian ambassador  at  the  Court  of  Austria's  recent  con- 
queror, but  resolved  to  improve  this  occasion  for  studying 
Napoleon,  "the  incarnation  of  the  Revolution,"  in  the 
hope  of  finding  his  vulnerable  spot.  If  we  are  to  believe 
Metternich's  "Memoirs,^'  we  must  believe  that  already 
in  1806  he  regarded  himself  as  destined  to  humble  Napo- 
leon, and  that  he  foresaw  much  that  came  to  pass;  but 
those  "Memoirs"  were  written  years  later,  when  retro- 
spect could  be  dressed  up  as  foresight,  with  the  evident 
intent  of  magnifying  the  wisdom  of  their  author.^  At  the 
raw  and  gaudy  Napoleonic  Court  he  was  a  perfect  speci- 
men of  eighteenth  century  aristocracy.  In  person  not 
commanding  yet  pleasing,  in  manner  elegant  but  not  stiff, 
choosing  to  be  deemed  frivolous  rather  than  earnest,  too 
self -controlled  to  be  surprised  into  petulance  or  anger,  he 
soon  shone  as  a  star  of  the  first  magnitude  in  Napoleon's 
hastily-improvised  social  firmament.  He  did  not  forget 
that  Napoleon  was  a  parvenu,  but  with  the  tact  of  a  man 
of  superior  breeding,  he  took  part  in  the  ])omp,  and  kept 
his  derision  to  himself.  He  was  affable  and  insinuating, 
but,  when  occasion  demanded,  he  showed  firmness  as  well 
as  pliability.  He  announced  at  the  outset  to  Napoleon 
that  he  was  charged  by  Emperor  Francis  to  promote 
friendly  relations  between  Austria  and  France,  but  these 
relations,  he  said,  "must  not  be  confounded  with  submis- 
sion." So  he  pursued  his  purpose,  apparently  intoxicated 
with  court  gayeties,  but  really  scrutinizing  Napoleon  and 
his  satellites,  sounding  the  temper  of  the  French  people, 
investigating  the  resources  of  the  Empire,  and  picking 
up  what  hints  he  could  of  the  Emperor's  intentions. 
A  high  -  bred  libertine,  his  liaisons  with  the  women  of 
the  French  Court  —  among  others,  with  Caroline  Murat, 
Napoleon's  sister  —  served  not  only  to  gratify  his  vanity 

^  Some  specimens  of  Metternich's  skill  in  editing  niaj^  be  found  in  Mal- 
leson's  clear  monograph:   Life  of  Prince  Metternich  (Philadelphia,  1888). 


THE   CONGRESS   OF    VIENNA.  125 

but  also  to  put  him  in  possession  of  secrets  which  he 
could  not  worm  from  the  more  wary  men.  In  brief,  he 
played  finely  the  part  of  licensed  eavesdropper  which 
diplomacy  dignified  by  the  name  of  ambassador.  All 
that  he  knew  or  surmised,  he  reported  duly  to  Vienna; 
and  perhaps  it  was  from  relying  too  much  on  his  infor- 
mation that  Austria  declared  war  in  1809.  Napoleon 
quickly  brought  Austria  to  terms  at  Wagram.  "We 
have  much  to  retrieve,"  said  Francis  to  Metternich  as 
they  witnessed  the  losing  battle.  The  Emperor's  first 
step  towards  retrieval  was  to  appoint  Metternich  Chief 
Minister  of  the  Empire.  The  moment  was  indeed  black. 
The  past  ten  years  hatl  been  strewn  with  the  wrecks  of 
ambitious  but  unsuccessful  ministers.  Thugut  had  been 
discredited  at  Marengo,  Cobenzl  at  Austerlitz,  Stadion  at 
Wagram;  the  finances  verged  on  bankruptcy;  the  army 
was  beaten  and  discouraged;  diplomatic  relations  with 
the  other  Powers  which  had  coalesced  against  Napoleon 
were  frayed.  But  Metternich  assumed  his  new  duties, 
unprejudiced  by  responsibility  for  the  last  disaster  or  for 
the  ignominious  peace.  His  p(^)licy  was  to  restore  as 
rapidly  and  secretly  as  he  could  the  finances  and  the 
army,  and  to  reach  out  for  new  combinations  with  Aus- 
tria's former  partners.  Then  came  the  proposition  that 
Na})()leon  sliould  marry  Maria  Louisa,  the  Emj)eror*s 
daughter.  Metternidi,  seeing  that  Austria  liad  much  to 
gain  and  little  to  lose,  approved  of  it.  If  Na])olcon 
should  maintain  his  supremacy,  a  Na])olc()ni('-IIa])s- 
burger  dynasty  might  rule  P^urope  for  gciKMutions:  it"  he 
should  grow  weak,  the  men^  marriage-tic  would  not 
prevent  Austria  from  seeking  alliances  with  Najjoleon's 
enemies.  Moreover,  Napoleon  was  intriguing  to  marry  a 
liussian  grand  duchess,  if  Maria  Louisa  refused,  and  the 
union  of  France  and  Kussia  might  be  fatal  to  Austria. 
Therefore,  Metternieli  a[)j)rove(l.  Francis  consented,  and 
the  old  House  of  llapshurg  was  united  to  the  u{)start 
House  of  Bonapaite. 


126  THE   DAWN    OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

Metternich  hastened  to  Paris,  ostensibly  to  escort 
Maria  Louisa  to  her  husband,  —  although  he  took  a 
different  route  from  hers,  —  but  really  to  fathom  the 
hidden  plans  in  Napoleon's  mind.  He  was  thus  occupied 
six  months  instead  of  six  weeks,  and  was  able  on  his 
return  to  Vienna  to  inform  Francis  that  1811  would  be  a 
year  of  outward  peace,  during  which  Napoleon  might 
prepare  for  a  campaign  against  Russia  in  1812.  Austria, 
he  added,  must  arm  and  hold  aloof,  ready  to  take  fortune 
by  either  hand.  Thenceforward,  Metternich  played  his 
role  with  consummate  duplicity.  He  signed  a  treaty  of 
alliance  with  Napoleon  and  equipped  a  corps  of  30,000 
for  the  right  wing  of  the  Grand  Army;  but  at  the  same 
time  he  assured  the  Czar  that  Austria's  feelings  towards 
Russia  were  friendly,  —  and  the  Czar,  believing  that 
Metternich  acted  from  compulsion  rather  than  from  pref- 
erence, bore  him  no  malice.  When  space  and  the  ele- 
ments achieved  what  half  a  dozen  European  coalitions 
had  failed  to  achieve, — the  destruction  of  Napoleon's 
army,  —  Metternich  deemed  the  hour  of  Austria's  deliv- 
erance near.  He  saw  that  Napoleon,  though  checked, 
was  not  yet  crushed,  that  he  would  strain  every  sinew  to 
retrieve  in  1813  the  prestige  lost  in  1812.  Austria  was 
still  bound  to  France  by  treaty,  but  Metternich  had  no 
intention  of  respecting  it.  Increasing  the  strength  of  the 
Austrian  army  as  quietly  as  possible,  he  announced  that 
Austria's  sole  interest  was  to  mediate  between  the  belli- 
gerents. Napoleon,  however,  was  suspicious  and  ordered 
his  agent  Otto  to  pin  the  slippery  Chancellor  to  his  obli- 
gations. But  Metternich  fooled  Otto  as  easily  as  a  jug- 
gler mystifies  a  child.  Then  Narbonne,  a  subtle  diplo- 
matist, was  sent  to  Vienna,  and  he  thrust  so  near  the 
truth  that  Metternich  was  embarrassed.  "Why  was 
Austria  arming?  Oh,  merely  to  be  in  the  position  where 
she  could  forcibly  mediate,  should  her  offices  as  peace- 
maker be  rejected."     Napoleon  scented  treachery,  but  he 


THE  CONGRESS   OF   VIENNA.  127 

hoped  to  outstrip  it.  At  Liitzen  and  Bautzen  he  whipped 
the  Russians  and  Prussians.  Then  there  was  a  brief 
pause,  for  victory  had  been  as  costly  to  him  as  defeat  to 
his  enemies.  Metternich,  having  ah-eady  secretly  inti- 
mated to  the  Allies  that  he  intended  to  join  them, 
exclaimed,  "The  hour  has  struck;"  but  he  still  delayed 
to  take  the  irrevocable  step,  because  Austria  still  required 
a  few  weeks  to  complete  her  armament.  Summoned  to 
Dresden  to  confer  with  Napoleon,  his  one  purpose  there 
was  to  dissemble  in  order  to  gain  time.  The  Emperor 
and  Chancellor  met  at  the  former's  quarters  in  the  Mar- 
colini  Garden. 

That  interview  is  surely  one  of  the  most  memorable  set 
down  in  human  annals.  On  the  one  hand,  Najjoleon,  a 
lion  at  bay,  representing  in  some  fashion  a  world -system 
destined  to  revolutionize  Europe;  on  the  other  hand, 
Metternich,  a  fox,  representing  a  world-system  which  but 
recently  seemed  hopelessly  stricken,  and  now  seems  on 
the  point  of  resurrection,  —  these  are  the  speakers  in  the 
dialogue.  The  Lion  storms,  threatens,  coaxes:  the  Fox 
listens  cabnly,  almost  disdainfully,  calculating  the 
strength  of  the  trap  into  which  his  foe  must  fall.  It  is 
an  eight-hours'  parley  between  tlie  Present,  still  confident 
of  its  superiority,  and  the  Past,  unexpectedly  come  back 
to  life  and  covetous  of  its  former  power.  The  Lion 
roars,  but  the  Fox  does  not  tremble:  time  was  when  the 
King  of  Beasts  did  not  roar  but  did  strike,  and  now 
sountl  and  fury  signify  nothing.  Naixdcon  leads  Met- 
ternich into  an  inner  room  and  sliows  him  the  map  of 
Europe :  Austria,  he  declares,  shall  liave  this  compensa- 
tion and  that,  if  she  but  hold  triie  to  France;  for  France 
and  Austria  together  may  laugh  at  coalitions.  Metter- 
nich is  evasive,  he  promises  nothing;  he  is  already 
thinking  how  long  it  will  take  his  army  in  Bohemia  to 
march  over  to  the  allied  eiini]).  Napoleon  aj)i)eals  to  the 
pride  of  tlu;  Hapsbui  gs:  was  it  for  nothing  that  he  we»lded 


128  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE, 

the  Austrian  arclidvichess?  Metternich  replies  that  fam- 
ily considerations  cannot  interfere  with  his  master's  duty 
to  his  State.  Napoleon  in  wrath  flings  his  hat  on  the 
floor;  Metternich,  leaning  imperturbably  against  a  cabi- 
net, does  not  condescend  to  pick  it  up;  the  Old  Regime 
no  lonjjer  fears  the  Revolution.  From  noon  till  nioht  the 
fateful  encounter  lasts.  Neither  is  deceived  by  his  antag- 
onist's ruses;  each  feels  that  there  can  be  no  league,  no 
compromise  between  the  systems  they  represent;  each 
knows  the  other  too  well  to  hope  to  dupe  him.  At  last 
they  part,  the  irrevocable  word  still  unsaid.  Metternich 
lingers  yet  a  few  days  at  Dresden.  They  agree  upon  a 
conference  to  be  held  at  Prague  to  discuss  the  terms  of 
peace,  —  a  pretense  which  neither  means  shall  be  more 
than  a  pretense ;  but  it  secures  for  Metternich  the  twenty 
days  needed  for  his  army  in  Bohemia,  and  for  Napoleon 
time  to  replete  the  regiments  decimated  in  the  late  bat- 
tles. And  so,  with  peace  on  their  lips,  but  war  in  their 
hearts,  Metternich  finally  quits  Napoleon  and  Dresden. 
The  Austrian  Fox  has  counted  the  allied  forces,  they 
outnumber  the  French  three  to  one;  he  is  satisfied  that 
the  Old  Regime  can  now  overwhelm  this  terrific  "incarna- 
tion of  the  Revolution."  Napoleon,  on  his  side,  measures 
the  full  stature  of  his  peril,  but  trusts  that  his  genius  and 
desperation  may  countervail  the  odds  against  him,  and  re- 
solves to  die  fighting  as  a  Lion  sliould.  Tlie  sham  truce 
ends ;  beacon  fires  flash  the  news  from  peak  to  peak  in 
Bohemia  that  Austria  has  declared  war  against  Napoleon. 
The  Allies  press  on  Dresden  and  are  hurled  back  by  a 
Titanic  effort.  For  a  moment  it  seems  that  Napoleon 
may  trivimph.  But  he  fails  to  pursue  his  advantage,  liis 
generals  are  worsted,  and  he  falls  back  on  Lei})zig. 
There,  in  mid-battle,  the  Saxons  desert  him,  the  odds  are 
too  great,  and  he  loses.  Metternich  has  won.  His  tactics 
in  this  campaign  may  stand  forever  as  a  pattern  of  the 
methods  of  the  old  school  of  diplomacy. 


THE  CONGRESS   OF   VIENNA.  129 

With  equal  cunning  he  managed  the  policy  of  the  Al- 
lies during  their  first  invasion  of  France.  When  the 
Prussians  were  too  eager  for  vengeance,  he  checked  them 
by  exciting  the  jealousy  of  the  Czar,  and  when  the  Czar 
was  headstrong,  he  brought  him  to  terms  by  threatening 
to  withdraw  the  Austrian  army  from  the  Alliance.  At 
the  Congress  of  Vienna  he  was  both  chart-maker  and  pilot. 
He  dictated  his  views  at  the  session  of  the  diplomats ;  he 
strutted  with  monarchs  in  the  drawing-rooms ;  he  dallied 
with  duchesses  in  their  boudoirs.  When  the  greed  of 
Prussia  and  Russia  would  have  devoured  prey  which 
Austria,  not  less  greedy  but  more  circumspect,  wished  to 
keep  from  them,  he  formed  a  secret  treaty  with  France 
and  England  and  was  prepared  to  resist  the  northern 
gluttons  by  arms.  He  so  thwarted  and  badgered  the 
Czar,  that  Alexander,  in  a  passion,  sent  a  second  to  him 
to  demand  an  apology  or  a  duel.  What  a  spectacle  that 
would  have  been,  the  Autocrat  of  all  the  Russias  and  the 
Cliancellor  of  the  Austrian  State  engaged  in  a  duel,  while 
all  the  monarchs  and  ministers  of  Europe  looked  on! 
Motternich  would  not  apologize;  he  merely  insinuated 
that  the  misunderstanding  was  due  to  the  deafness  of  the 
Prussian  minister,  and  Emperor  Francis  was  al)le  to 
patch  up  a  reconciliation.  For  the  sake  of  his  liaison 
with  Murat's  wife,  Metternich  would  have  ki'pt  Murat 
on  the  tlirone  of  Naples,  and  his  persistency  in  pressing 
this  matter  might  have  brought  the  Congress  to  blows, 
had  not  Murat,  by  untimely  impetuosity,  put  himself  be- 
yond the  pale  of  even  Mctternicirs  favor.  Xa])oleou's 
escape  from  Elba  ciiuscd  tlie  Powers  to  drop  their  quar- 
rels, and  to  coin])l«'te  more  liarmonionsly  the  division  of 
their  l)ooty.  Thus  conniving,  bullying,  cajoling,  neutral- 
izing greed  with  greed,  ])atient  at  waiting,  quick  at  strik- 
ing, ^b'ttej-nieh  ])resi(led  over  the  ileliberntions  of  the 
Congress  of  N'ienna,  and  wrote  the  treaty  there  pro- 
claimed as  the  new  chartei-  of  Europe.  W'atei'loo  swept 
from  tlie  scene  the  onlv  lival  whom  he  feared. 


130  THE   DAWN    OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

Metternich's  political  creed  was  simple:  he  believed  in 
absolute  monarchy,  privileged  aristocracy,  and  a  multi- 
tude of  obedient  subjects.  It  was  for  the  interest  of 
crown  and  court  to  treat  these  last  well,  to  give  them  as 
sheep  good  pasturage  and  shelter;  but  if  they  were  neg- 
lected, or  abused,  or  even  killed,  there  was  no  redress; 
no  society  for  the  prevention  of  cruelty  to  animals  had  as 
yet  been  organized.  Metternich  saw  that  the  French 
Revolution  attacked  this  social  system, —  that  its  promot- 
ers would  have  substituted  rejiresentative  for  autocratic 
government ;  and  he  was  shrewd  enough  to  see  that  the 
rulers  who  would  thus  be  chosen  would  rarely  be  those 
who  owed  their  position  to  birth  or  privilege.  If  he  per- 
ceived with  equal  clearness  the  rising  spirit  of  nationality 
and  its  tendency,  he  acted  as  if  unaware  that  it  must  be 
reckoned  with.  Yet  this  spirit  had  already  given  tremen- 
dous strength  to  France  in  her  repulse  of  the  first  Eu- 
ropean coalition ;  it  had  been  one  of  the  secrets  of  Napo- 
leon's success,  in  that  he  took  care  to  identify  his  glory 
with  that  of  the  French  people;  it  had  been  used  by  him 
to  incite  Italy,  Poland,  and  Hungary,  and  then  spurned 
when  he  thought  it  had  served  his  purpose ;  it  had  kin- 
dled Prussia,  nay  all  Germany,  to  such  a  fever  of  indig- 
nation that  the  Germans  rose  as  one  man  in  1813  to 
throw  off  Napoleon's  yoke.  But  Metternich  ignored  this 
principle,  —  at  the  most  he  laughed  at  it  as  a  silly  en- 
thusiasm, an  effervescence  of  political  idealism,  not  to  be 
encouraged.  In  reconstructing  Europe,  he  attended  only 
to  dynastic  interests.  When  it  was  necessary  to  cut  a 
race  into  several  slices,  and  to  give  these  to  different 
monarchs,  he  did  so  without  scruple ;  for  peace  depended 
upon  keeping,  as  nearly  as  possible,  the  equilibrium 
among  the  greeds  of  the  various  gluttons.  His  cardinal 
mistake  was  in  supposing  that  by  ridding  Europe  of  Na- 
poleon he  had  destroyed  the  Revolution.  Napoleon  was 
not  the  true  embodiment  of  the  Revolution;   he  was  a 


THE   CONGRESS   OF   VIENNA.  131 

despot  who  differed  only  in  his  genius  and  methods  from 
the  hereditary  despots,  —  a  man  of  force  so  herculean 
that  he  could  bridle  the  vast  energy  liberated  in  1789, 
and  drive  it  along  the  road  of  his  personal  ambition.  In 
thus  confounding  Napoleon's  cause  with  that  of  the  Rev- 
olution, Metternich  made  a  blunder  common  to  the  poli- 
ticians of  his  time,  and  often  repeated  by  later  historians, 
especially  in  England. 

In  1815  much  contributed  to  justify  this  error.  Eu- 
rope was  thoroughly  exhausted ;  the  wars  of  twenty  years 
had  been  waged  for  ambition  and  not  for  principle ;  Eu- 
rope now  asked  for  peace  at  any  terms.  The  Arch-dis- 
turber being  finally  crushed,  Metternich  proposed  to 
restore  the  good  old  times  when  the  Corsican  Ogre  and 
the  Keign  of  Terror  were  as  yet  undreamt  of,  and  the 
divine  right  of  kings  was  as  j^et  inviolate.  To  accom})lish 
this,  it  was  only  necessary  to  prevent  any  of  the  legiti- 
mate sovereigns  from  getting  more  than  his  share  of  the 
plunder;  and  then  to  agree  that  the  division  should  be 
irrevocable.  There  were  five  great  monarchs  and  a  scoi-e 
of  princelings,  each  of  whom,  like  the  Do-nothing  Kings 
of  yore,  had  his  Mayor  of  the  Palace,  or  Chancellor,  or 
Minister,  to  take  counsel  with  and  to  be  guided  by.  It 
is  a  strange  fact  that  God  should  have  intrusted  the  gov- 
ernment of  the  world  to  a  few  sovereigns,  l)nt  it  is 
stranger  that,  this  being  Ilis  pleasure.  He  neglected  to 
endow  them  witli  ability  to  govern.  The  liumor  of  this 
paradox  <'scaped  the  notice  of  mankind  until  very  rcci'ntly ; 
the  sovereigns  thf'iiisclves  have  not  yet  ])ereeived  it,  and 
they  are  certain  never  to  hv  enligliteued  by  their  masters, 
the  Ministers.  Metterni*'h  iiinisclf  eiijoved  too  well  the 
reality  of  power  to  fret  because  a  nicdiocrity  wore  the 
traj)pings  of  jOTWcr.  He  vahicd  things,  not  names.  If 
his  cynic  eyes  saw  many  absurdities,  he  repressed  liis 
smile  and  gravely  ])erf()rim'd  tlieni :  for  he  knew  that  they 
too  were  essentials  in   the    system   from  which   liis   intlu- 


132  THE   DAWN   OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

ence  sprang.  Dutifully  he  walked  through  his  figure  in 
the  court  quadrille,  and  stickled  for  the  observance  of 
the  minutest  punctilio.  Perhaps  he  wished  to  believe 
that  there  was  some  occult  virtue  in  these  things  them- 
selves, —  as  a  half-skeptic  might  wish  to  be  benefited  by 
touching  holy  relics,  —  at  any  rate,  he  held  them  to  be 
indispensable  for  maintaining  that  form  of  society  in 
which  he  was  supreme.  His  almanac  plainly  read  1815, 
but  he  covenanted  with  his  wit  to  humor  the  oligarchy 
which  believed  itself  living  in  1770;  so  a  physician 
humors  the  follies  of  his  mildly  insane  patients.  He  had 
in  Emperor  Francis  a  perfect  master,  a  sovereign  with 
just  enough  force  to  seem  to  act  of  his  own  motion,  but 
not  keen  enough  to  see  that  his  thoughts  and  will  merely 
echoed  Metternich's  suggestions.  As  an  Athenian  actor 
spoke  through  a  mask  in  order  that  his  voice  might  carry 
farther,  so  Metternich's  utterances  gained  in  volume  and 
authority  in  passing  through  the  Emperor's  lips. 

Europe  being  thus  at  the  disposal  of  a  few  monarchs 
and  their  counselors,  diplomacy,  —  the  art  of  ruling  by 
chicane,  —  was  brought  to  its  highest  pitch,  and  the 
control  of  Europe  must  needs  pass  to  the  diplomat  who 
excelled  in  craft.  A  pretense  of  virtue  was  of  course 
made ;  for  even  arrant  villains  do  not  publish  themselves 
by  that  name,  and  in  diplomacy  as  in  other  arts,  perfec- 
tion consists  in  hiding  art.  At  the  instigation  of  the 
Czar,  the  Emperor  of  Austria  and  the  King  of  Prussia 
joined  in  forming  at  Paris  (September  14,  1816)  what  is 
known  as  the  Holy  Alliance,  a  compact  in  which  those 
three  monarchs  solemnly  declare  "that  the  present  act 
has  for  its  object  to  manifest  in  the  face  of  the  universe 
their  immovable  determination  to  take  for  the  rule  of  their 
conduct,  whether  in  the  administration  of  their  respec- 
tive States,  or  in  their  political  relations  with  any  other 
government,  only  the  precepts  of  this  holy  (Cln-istian) 
religion,  — precepts  of  justice,  of  charity,  and  of  peace, 


THE   CONGKESS   OF    VIENNA.  133 

which,  far  from  being  applicable  to  private  life  alone, 
should  on  the  contrary  directly  influence  the  resolutions 
of  princes  and  guide  their  actions,  as  being  the  only 
means  in  order  to  consolidate  human  institutions  and  to 
remedy  their  imperfections."  The  tender-hearted  mon- 
archs  added  that  they  would  be  as  brothers  to  each  other, 
and  "as  fathers  of  a  family  toward  their  subjects  and 
armies."^  Metternich,  the  worldly-wise,  smiled  at  this 
manifesto  as  "nothing  more  than  a  philanthropic  asj)ira- 
tion  clothed  in  a  religious  garb."  lie  suspected  that  the 
evil-minded  would  misinterpret  and  that  the  jokers  would 
ridicule  it,  but  none  knew  better  than  he  the  flimsiness  of 
diplomatic  agreements,  and  accordingly  he  consented  to 
it.  Christianity  has  had  many  crimes  committed  in  its 
name;  the  Holy  Alliance  made  Christianity  the  cloak 
vuider  which  the  kings  of  Euro})e  conspired  to  perpetuate 
the  helotage  of  their  subjects.  jVIetternich  found  it  all  the 
easier  to  direct  kings  whose  common  interest  it  was  to 
ui)hold  the  paternal  system  therein  approved.  lie  exerted 
his  influence  over  each  of  them  separately ;  if  the  monarch 
were  obdurate,  he  wheedled  his  minister;  if  the  minister 
were  wary,  he  prejudiced  tlie  monarch  against  him.^  Now 
by  flattery,  and  now  by  specious  argument,  he  won  his 
advantage.  When  the  Czar  or  the  Prussian  king  grew 
restive  at  Austria's  adroitly-concealed  domination  over 
them,  Metternich  frightened  them  by  hinting  that  lie  liad 
infornuition  of  revolutionary  plots  about  to  cx])l()de  in 
their  realms.  He  made  secret  combinations  between 
Austria  and  each  of  the  Powers,  so  that,  should  one  of 
tliem  encroach,  he  could  overwhelm  it  by  an  unex})ected 
coalition.  Like  a  trickster  at  cards,  he  marked  every 
card  in  tlie  pack  and  could  always  ])lay  tlie  ace.  He 
judged  charact<;rs  as  he  foiuul  them  plastic  or  rigid  in  his 

'    FI.Lss.in,   iii. 

■^  'I'liiis  lie  tiifd  til  ])rciii(licf  Alcx.iihlcr  .I'^ainsl  Capo  d'  Istri:i.  and  Fred- 
erick William  ai;aiii.st  Stein. 


134  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

hands:  George  the  Fourth  was  a  noble  prince  and  an 
iincorrupted  gentleman;  Castlereagh  was  a  wise  and  just 
statesman;  but  Canning  was  a  "  maleficent  meteor, "  Stein 
a  dangerous  visionary,  and  Capo  d'  Istria  a  fool.  "Why 
is  it,"  he  asks  in  a  tone  of  condescending  pity,  "that  so 
many  fools  are  thoroughly  good  men?"^  He  wrote  in 
one  vein  to  the  king,  in  another  to  the  king's  adviser. - 
He  would  find  justification  for  his  claims  in  some  treaty 
or  custom  centuries  old,  or  he  would  unblushingly  ignore 
any  clause  of  a  treaty  which  he  himself  had  signed."^  He 
told  the  truth  when  he  knew  it  would  not  be  believed;  he 
prevaricated  when  he  intended  his  falsehood  should  pass 
for  truth.  This  was  diplomacy,  these  the  "Christian 
precepts "  by  which  one  hundred  and  fifty  millions  of 
Europeans  were  governed.  In  a  society  where  every  one 
lies,  falsehoods  of  equal  cunning  nullify  each  other. 
Metternich  took  care  that  his  should  excel  in  verisimili- 
tude and  in  subtlety.  It  was  an  o2Jen  battle  of  craft; 
but  his  craft  was  as  superior  to  that  of  his  competitors  as 
a  slow,  undetectable  poison  is  more  often  fatal  than  the 
hasty  stab  of  a  bravo.  He  fished  both  with  hooks  and 
nets :  if  one  broke,  the  other  held.  The  chief  falsehood, 
still  potent  to  deceive,  was  to  persuade  nations  that  their 
interests  coincided  with  the  ambitions  of  dynasties  and 
cabinets.  When  the  Czar  quarrels  with  the  Austrian 
emperor,  for  instance,  he  persuades  his  Russians  that 
they  have  a  personal  grievance  against  the  peoples  of 
Austria;  and  an  army  of  Muscovite  peasants  set  forth 
to  slaughter  an  army  of  Austrian  peasants :  a  wonderful 
delusion,  which  kings  and  chancellors  will  profit  by,  until 
the  populations  of  Europe  rise  above  the  level  of  sheep  ! 
Metternich,  who  cared  nothing  for  national  sentiments, 

1  Memoirs,  iii,  3G4. 

'■^  As  in  the  case  of  Louis  Philippe  and  Guizot ;   see  Mazarle  :    Un  Chan- 
cellier  (V Ancien  Regime,  chap.  (>. 

^  As  when,  at  Carlsbad,  he  ignored  §  13  of  the  Treaty  of  Vienna. 


THE   CONGRESS   OF    VIENNA.  135 

nevertheless  used  them,  as  a  chemist  uses  chemicals,  to 
neutralize  each  other,  by  setting  antipathy  against  anti- 
pathy, or  by  creating  artificial  combinations. 

He  was,  we  may  affirm,  sincerely  insincere;  strongly 
attached  to  the  Ilapsburg  dynasty,  and  patriotic  in  so  far 
as  the  aggrandizement  of  that  House  corresponded  with 
the  interests  of  the  Austrian  State.  But  the  central 
figure  in  his  perspective  was  always  himself,  whom  he 
regarded  as  the  savior  of  a  social  order  whose  i)reserva- 
tion  held  back  the  world  from  chaos.  When  he  stood 
off  from  himself  and  contemplated  the  resjjonsibility 
heaped  upon  him,  he  was  almost  overcome  by  a  mystic 
awe  of  himself;  he  felt  as  Atlas  must  have  felt  when,  in 
gloomy  moments,  he  reflected  that  he  was  mortal,  and 
that  when  he  died  the  heavens  would  fall  and  crush  the 
earth.  He  spoke  of  his  mission  as  an  "apostolate."  He 
was  gratified  by  observing  the  sudden  "moral  improve- 
ment" which  attended  his  visit,  however  short,  to  a  recal- 
citrant sovereign,  or  to  a  hot-bed  of  conspirators.  He 
testifies  that  the  "pure  and  just"  always  hailed  him  as  a 
deliverer,  and  he  rejoiced  in  the  liatred  and  fear  he  in- 
spired in  the  "bad."  Yet  he  cherished  no  delusions, 
except  tliat  i)rinial  delusion  that  the  Old  Regime  could 
be  permanently  anchored  in  the  swift-flowing,  bottondess 
stream  of  time,  lie  had  every  boat  out,  and  every  m;in 
tugging  at  the  oars,  to  keep  the  prow  of  th(!  old  galleon 
headed  against  the  current;  but  he  saw  her  slipping  down, 
decade  by  decade,  and  he  knew  that  the  rowers  nuist  at 
the  end  flag  and  fail.  "They  uill  lust  our  time;  after 
us,  the  Deluge,"  was  a  saying  he  liked  to  quote. 

To  resist  all  change, — that  was  his  policy;  to  keep 
the  sui'face  smooth,  —  that  was  his  jx'ace.  Mankind  are 
mostly  the  duj)es  of  apiH'aranct's,  and  he  had  the  ait  of 
draping  Kurope  in  what  ai)|)('aranct's  he  chose.  After  a 
)»aroxysm  of  fever,  she  lay  in  a  stupor:  he  dicw  tight  the 
ciutains    round    hei-    Ix-d,      -pretty    eliintz    <'urtains    with 


136  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

Watteau  patterns;  and  if  you  asked  to  see  the  patient, 
he  said,  "She  sleeps,"  and  extolled  the  grace  of  those 
ladies  in  damask  and  gentlemen  in  satin,  so  artfully- 
woven  in  the  chintz.  Yet  with  the  facts  on  the  surface 
he  dealt  quickly,  decisively,  outwitting  his  rivals  in  di- 
plomacy because  he  knew  exactly  what  he  wanted  and  how 
to  get  it.  Like  Napoleon,  he  had  a  contempt  for  ideo- 
logues, "Phrases  ruin  the  world,  but  save  nobody;" 
"  people  only  conspire  profitably  against  things,  not  against 
theories,"  are  two  maxims  of  this  adroit  phrase-maker, 
who  was  sparkling-Gallic  rather  than  opaque-German  in 
his  temperament.  lie  likened  himself  to  a  spider,  spin- 
ning a  vast  web.  "I  begin  to  know  the  world  well,"'  he 
said,  "and  I  believe  that  the  flies  are  eaten  by  the  spi- 
ders only  because  they  die  naturally  so  young  that  they 
have  no  time  to  gain  experience,  and  do  not  know  what 
is  the  nature  of  a  spider's  web."^  How  many  flies  he 
caught  during  his  forty  years'  spinning!  but  his  success, 
he  admitted,  was  due  quite  as  much  to  their  blindness  as 
to  his  cunning.  "I  have  never  worn  a  mask,  and  those 
who  have  mistaken  me  must  have  very  bad  eyes."^  The 
very  ease  and  inevitableness  of  his  capture  cloyed  him; 
he  longed  for  worthier  antagonists  to  increase  his  fame 
and  call  out  his  reserves.  He  regretted  that  there  were 
no  more  great  actors  on  the  stage,  after  "the  only  gen- 
ius the  eighteenth  century  had  produced "  had  been 
driven  from  it.  He  seemed  to  delight  in  royal  confer- 
ences in  order  that  he  might  have  the  excitement  of 
manipulating  Alexander  and  Frederick  William ;  for  his 
own  Emperor,  Francis,  was  as  pliable  as  putty  in  his 
hands. 

Such  was  Metternich,  "  the  most  worldly,  the  most  dex- 
terous, the  most  fortunate  of  politicians,"  the  embodiment 
of    that  Old  Regime  strangely  interpolated  in  the  nine- 
teenth century.     Knowing  him,  we  shall  know  the  nature 
1  Memoirs,  iii,  367.  ^  j/,,-,/,  326. 


THE   CONGRESS   OF   VIENNA.  137 

of  the  resistance  which  cheeked  every  patriotic  impulse, 
every  effort  towards  progress  in  Italy,  between  1815  and 
1848.  Few  names  have  been  hated  as  his  was  hated,  or 
feared  as  his  was  feared.  The  Italians  pictured  to  them- 
selves a  monster,  a  worse  than  Herod,  who  gloated  over 
hmnan  suffering,  and  spent  his  time  in  inventing  new 
tortures  for  his  victims.  lie  regarded  them,  and  all  lib- 
erals, as  natural  enemies  to  the  order  in  which  he  flour- 
ished; and  he  had  no  more  mercy  for  them  than  the 
Spanish  Inquisitors  had  for  heretics.  One  thing  he  knew, 
they  could  not  both  thrive :  and  he  having  the  su})erior 
power  used  it.  "All  your  cry  for  liberty  and  reform," 
he  said,  "'means  simply,  Otez-vous.  de  la,queje  in  y  i>lave^ 
'  You  stcj)  down,  that  I  may  step  up.'  "  Doubtless  his 
victims  would  have  been  surprised  could  they  have  seen 
this  "monster"  in  his  daily  life,  where  he  a])peared  only 
a  polished  nuin-of-the-world,  too  self-possessed  to  be  a 
dandy,  and  yet  affecting  a  lightness  not  always  becoming 
in  a  statesman.  Affable  and  never  dull,  few  could  re- 
meml)er  to  have  seen  angry  flashes  in  those  imperturbable 
eyes,  or  any  but  a  deliberatt;  smile  on  those  self-compla- 
cent lips.  lie  cowered  some  men  by  a  certain  haughti- 
n(iss;  he  captivated  others  by  coiuiterfeit  frankness,  or 
by  flattery;  and  he  could  even  turn  on  tlie  fountain  of 
tears,  wlien  the  heats  of  diploiiuu-y  could  be  (lucnclied 
in  no  other  way.  AVomen  of  the  liighest  rank  were 
proud  to  submit  to  his  gallantry.  After  the  fasliion  of 
an  amateur,  he  anuised  liiinself  with  ])ainting  and  science, 
and  took  satisfaction  in  having  it  appear  that  wci'e  tlie 
cares  of  State  ten  times  heavier,  tiiey  could  not  exceed 
his  strengtli,  nor  interrupt  his  pleasures.  He  had  the 
dangerous  privilege  of  l)elieviiig  that  he  was  infallible, 
that  all  his  deeds  were  ])crfcct.  and  in  his  old  age,  when 
the  linrricane  of  another  revolution  had  swe])t  his  wcl) 
away  forever,  he  decdared  that,  were  he  to  live  his  career 
again,  he  would  not  alter  a  single  act. 


138  THE    DAWN    OF   ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

These,  then,  were  the  principles  which  dominated  Eu- 
rope after  the  downfall  of  Napoleon,  and  this  was  the 
man  who  signed  the  doom  of  tyranny  against  the  Italians 
in  the  year  1815.  The  Era  of  the  Lion  was  succeeded  by 
the  Era  of  the  Fox,  Force  by  Craft :  but  the  Fox  was  too 
wily  to  trust  wholly  to  diplomatic  chicane ;  he  had  the 
Catholic  Church  as  an  ally,  and  when  both  diplomatic 
and  clerical  deceit  failed,  he  had  the  armies  of  the  Holy 
Alliance  ready  to  compel  obedience. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE   RETURN    OF   THE    DESPOTS,    1814-15. 

The  Treaty  of  Vienna  only  confirmed  the  doom  of 
tyranny  whieli  the  Italians  had  seen  to  be  im})endin<^  for 
nearly  a  year.  Early  in  1814,  when  the  Allies  were 
tightening  their  coil  round  Napoleon,  they  made  fine 
promises  of  liberty  to  the  Italians,  as  they  made  also  to 
the  Germans.  They  enticed  the  fickle  Murat,  King  of 
Naples,  into  their  league,  and  they  paralyzed  the  effort 
of  Eugene  lieaidiarnais.  Napoleon's  Viceroy  in  the  North, 
by  ai)pealiug  to  his  troops  to  join  Europe  in  her  crusade 
against  the  colossal  tyrant.  Lord  lientinck,  the  al)ettor 
in  behalf  of  England  of  Bourbon  intrigues  in  Italy, 
landed  at  Leghorn,  and  issued  a  manifesto  in  which  he 
called  upon  the  Italians  to  rise  and  shake  off  the  cruel 
yoke  of  Bona])arte.  '' Let  Portugal,  let  Spain,  let  Sicily, 
let  Holland  tell  you  how  England  acts  only  from  gen- 
erosity and  cares  nothing  for  selfish  interest.  We  do  not 
ask  you  to  come  over  to  us :  only  let  our  voices  admonish 
you  to  avenge  your  riglits,  and  to  regain  your  liberty."  ' 
Then  ])roceediug  to  Genoa,  Bentinck  easily  concpu'red  tlie 
Erench  garrison  and  set  uj)  a  ])rovisi<)nal  government. 
Even  earlier  than  this  General  Nugent,  an  Englishman 
who  had  long  served  Austria,  j)r()claiiiu'd  at  Ravenna: 
"A  new  order  of  things  is  l)()rn.  for  tlie  ])nrposi'  of  lead- 
ing back  to  you  and  of  consolidating  public  happiness. 
\  on  are  to  become  an  iudcpciidcnt  nation.  Show  your- 
selves zealous  for  tlie  public  we;d  and  ki'cj)  faith  with 
him  who  loves  and   protects  you,  and  you  will   be  hapjn'. 

'   E.  Vo'^^\:    Sluriii  (/■  Italia  dal  ls|  1  «/  ls4i;  ( I'luiviuf.  Iss:',).  i.  1l'. 


140  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

Very  soon  your  lot  will  be  envied  and  your  state  ad- 
mired." Marshal  Bellegarde,  commander  of  the  Austrian 
forces  in  Italy,  was  not  less  generous  in  his  appeal.^ 
"Behold  in  us  your  liberators,"  he  said.  "We  come  to 
protect  your  legitimate  rights,  and  to  set  up  that  wliich 
force  and  pride  threw  down."  Nugent,  in  a  manifesto 
at  Modena,  February  25,  1814,  repeated  his  siren  song. 
"Soldiers!  Let  your  servitude  cease,  let  the  Italian 
cease  to  shed  his  blood  to  serve  the  voracious  ambition  of 
foreigners.  Do  not  fear  lest  in  the  new  order  of  things, 
under  different  masters,  you  have  at  last  to  fall  back  into 
a  state  of  weakness  and  subjection.  No,  Italians !  this  is 
not  the  scope  of  the  Allied  Powers.  Among  the  many 
most  just  causes  which  brought  about  the  actual  war,  there 
is  that  of  your  independence,  conciliating  your  political 
and  civil  existence  with  the  rights  of  the  legitimate  sov- 
ereigns of  Italy,  so  that  you  may  present  in  the  circle 
of  peoples  a  single  body,  a  single  nation,  worthy  of  the 
respect  of  its  neighbors,  and  free  from  the  influence  of 
any  foreigners.  Therefore,  let  every  one  of  you  kindle 
the  desire  of  uniting  under  a  banner  which  is  that  of  the 
honor,  of  the  happiness,  of  the  regeneration  of  Italy."  ^ 
Keen  eyes  might  have  detected  dubious  meanings  in  these 
artful  appeals,  but  the  Italians  were  blinded  by  their 
desire  to  rid  themselves  of  their  actual  master,  Napoleon ; 
that  accomplished,  they  looked  to  a  brighter  future. 

The  duplicity  of  the  English  and  Austrians  succeeded 
famously :  with  little  resistance,  Northern  Italy  was  taken 
from  the  French.  Had  it  been  otherwise,  had  Murat  and 
Beauharnhais  joined  their  forces,  they  might  have  long 
held  the  Austrians  in  check,  perhaps  even  have  made  a 
descent  on  Vienna;  and  although  this  might  not  liave 
hindei'ed  the  ultimate  overthrow  of  Napoleon,  yet  it  must 
have  compelled  the  Allies,  at  the  day  of  settlement,  to 
resjject  the  wishes  of  the  Italians.  But  disunited,  and 
I  Voiiix'u  i.  14.  -  Ibid,  15. 


THE   RETURN   OF   THE   DESPOTS.  141 

deluded  into  the  belief  that  they  were  partners  in  a  war 
of  liberation,  the  Italians  woke  up  to  find  that  they  had 
escaped  from  the  talons  of  the  French  eagle,  only  to  be 
caught  in  the  clutch  of  the  two-headed  monstrosity  of 
Austria.  They  were  to  be  used,  in  the  language  of  Jo- 
seph De  Maistre,  like  coins  wherewith  the  Allies  paid 
their  debts.  This  was  plain  enough  when  the  people  of 
the  just-destroyed  Kingdom  of  Italy  prepai-ed  to  choose 
a  ruler  for  themselves :  one  party  favored  Beaidiarnais, 
another  wished  an  Austrian  prin(!e,  a  third  an  Italian, 
but  all  agreed  in  demanding  independence.  Austria 
quickly  informed  them  that  they  were  her  subjects,  and 
that  their  affairs  would  be  decided  at  Vienna.^  Thus, 
almost  without  striking  a  blow,  and  without  a  suspicion 
of  the  lot  awaiting  them,  the  Northern  Italians  fell  back 
under  the  domination  of  Austria. 

In  the  spring  and  early  summer  of  1814  the  exiled 
princelings  returned :  Victor  Emanuel  I  from  his  savage 
refuge  in  Sardinia  to  Turin;  Fta-dinand  III  from  Wiirz- 
burg  to  Florence ;  Pius  VII  from  his  confinement  at  Fon- 
tainebleau  and  Savona  to  Rome;  Francis  IV  to  Modena. 
Other  aspirants  anxiously  waited  for  the  Congress  of 
Vienna  to  bestow  upon  them  the  remaining  ])rovinces. 
The  Congress,  as  we  have  seen,  dragged  on  into  the 
spring  of  the  following  year;  the  self-styled  brolliers 
growled  and  quarreled  over  the  spoils  after  the  brotherly 
fashion  of  Cain,  and  they  miglit  not  have  conchuU'd  their 
settlement  without  another  general  war  had  not  Napo- 
leon's sudden  return  to  Paris  forced  tlieni  to  post])one 
their  lesser  differences.  Tlie  Italians,  jib-eady  chafing 
under  th(^  restoration,  were  lighted  i)y  a  nioiuentary 
gleam  of  lu)])e,  when  tliey  h-arned  that  the  Concincior 
was  once  more  master  of  France:  tliey  a])peah'(l  to  him 
to  come  and  atone  for  his  past  <bi])licity  by  making  Italy 
free,  united,  and  independent.      And  Mnrat,  who  had  by 

'    F.  Coiifjilonieri  :    M-innri>  -    Lr/tm   (Milan.   I^'.t'.l).  ii,  -^-lO. 


142  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

this  time  repented  him  of  his  desertion  of  Napoleon,  and 
who  began  to  fear  that  the  intriguers  at  Vienna  intended 
to  deprive  him  of  his  Neapolitan  Kingdom,  proclaimed 
himself  the  champion  of  oppressed  Italy,  and  marched 
northward  to  expel  the  Austrians.  Brave  but  rash,  he 
forgot  Napoleon's  counsel  to  remain  on  the  defensive  and 
wait  for  developments  in  France.  After  two  engage- 
ments his  army  was  dispersed.  The  Italians  failed  to 
rise  at  his  exhortations,  either  because  recent  treachery 
had  made  them  suspicious  of  everybody,  or  because  the 
restored  governments  had  already  perfected  their  system 
of  repression.  Beaten,  deserted  by  his  troops  and  his 
friends,  and  in  danger  of  capture  by  the  Austrians,  Murat 
escaped  on  a  small  ship  to  France.  His  unsuccessful 
exploit  relieved  Metternich  of  all  embarrassment  in  fin- 
ishing the  reconstruction  of  Italy:  on  June  7,  1815,  Fer- 
dinand IV  entered  Naples  under  the  protection  of  the 
Austrian  army  of  occupation. 

And  here  actually  begins  the  complete  restoration  of 
the  Old  Regime,  and  the  riveting  of  old  fetters:  a  pe- 
riod of  anachronism  and  conflict.  Under  the  most  favor- 
able circumstances,  crabbed  age  and  youth  cannot  live 
together.  How,  therefore,  in  this  case,  when  Youtli, 
already  advanced  to  middle  life,  beheld  Crabbed  Age, 
buried  twenty -five  years  before,  stalk  back  from  the  tomb 
and  resume  his  hateful  aiithority?  Strive  to  realize  what 
this  word  restoration  meant  in  1815 ;  you  will  hardly  suc- 
ceed, even  if  you  help  your  endeavor  with  imaginary  par- 
allels. And  for  this  reason :  that  quarter  of  a  centiii'y 
between  the  death  and  resurrection  of  the  Old  Kegime  is 
precisely  the  most  prolific  of  changes  that  Europe  has 
seen ;  not  merely  changes  in  the  boundaries  of  kingdoms 
and  in  the  names  of  kings,  —  that  was  but  a  surface  rip- 
ple, —  but  changes  in  the  views  men  held  concerning  the 
entire  constitution  of  society,  the  right  of  individuals,  tlie 
privileges  of  classes,  the  object  and  form  of  government. 


THE   RETURN   OF   THE   DESPOTS.  143 

These  views  spread,  in  spite  of  Napoleon's  apparent  con- 
travention of  them ;  they  sprang  up,  wherever  he  planted 
his  administration ;  they  were  borne  by  that  irresistible 
but  unobstreperous  trade-wind,  the  Zeitgeist,  into  all 
lands.  Men  saw  but  dimly  what  the  fruits  would  be; 
but  they  saw  most  clearly  that  the  world's  aspect  had 
altered,  that  the  current  of  events  set  strongly  forward, 
and  that  some  of  the  conditions  which  had  prevailed  in 
their  youth  were  now  as  antiquated  as  the  Crusades. 
But  kings  and  ministers  had  "learned  nothing  and  for- 
gotten nothing."  They  believed  that  they  could  set  back 
the  horologe  of  time  and  by  their  simple  fiat  erase  from 
men's  minds  the  results  of  five-and -twenty  years  of  mo- 
mentous experience.  It  was  as  if  you  should  take  the 
blind  creatures  from  the  gloom  and  slime  of  the  Mammoth 
Cave,  and  bring  them  into  the  light,  where  in  the  course 
of  generations  they  might  acquire  eyes  and  new  faculties : 
and  then  you  should  restore  these  more  highly -endowed 
creatures  to  the  darkness  and  the  stagnant  pool  which  had 
sufficed  for  their  ancestors.  Nature  makes  these  changes, 
whether  of  advance  or  retrocession,  so  slowly,  through  the 
gradual  adjustment  of  oi'gans  to  environment,  that  there 
is  little  pain.  But  Bourbons  never  take  lessons  from 
Nature;  they  follow  neither  Reason  nor  Justice  which  is 
the  supreme  expression  of  Reason ;  but  instead  of  these, 
take  their  own  passions  and  interests  for  guides.  And 
when  Nature  and  Human  Nature  rise  up  and  resist  them, 
they  apply  their  will  yet  more  stubl)ornly  and  accuse  the 
universe  of  being  wrong.  They  had  learned  nothing  of 
the  needs  required  for  directing  by  sane  and  just  nictli- 
ods  the  new  woi'ld  to  a  liighor  goal:  but  they  had  learned 
through  exile  to  be  more  bitter  and  moi-e  cruel;  tliey  liad 
learned  througli  the  l\<'volntion  that  cljanges  nuist  conn', 
and  therefore  to  dread  cluanu^c,  and  dreading,  to  hat(>  it, 
and  liating,  to  believe  that  the  sole  means  of  ]Mvv(>nting  it 
was  to  restore  immediately  and  most  rigiilly  the  system 


144  THE   DAWN   OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

which  had  obtained  before  the  Revolution.  They  were 
logical,  they  were  sincere;  and  in  lieu  of  wisdom  they 
obeyed  instinct,  which  warned  them  that  there  could  be 
no  compromise  between  the  old  and  the  new.  To  sur- 
render a  part  of  their  prerogatives  meant  inevitably  to 
lose  all  at  last:  it  was  a  death-grapple  between  the  eigh- 
teenth century  and  the  nineteenth,  and  for  a  long  time 
the  eighteenth  believed  that  it  had  won. 

With  these  purposes  and  doctrines  in  their  heads,  the 
champions  of  the  Old  Regime  remounted  their  thrones  in 
Italy.  The  course  before  them  was  not  doubtful.  They 
took  the  old  fashions,  customs,  and  dresses  out  of  the 
wardrobes  where  they  had  lain  in  camphor  during  the 
long  interregnmn,  and  proceeded  to  attire  themselves  and 
their  subjects  in  them.  But  here  they  were  confronted 
by  an  aggravating  obstacle:  of  their  old  subjects  many 
had  died,  and  those  who  survived  had  grown  too  broad  of 
girth  and  stout  of  thigh  to  wear  the  apparel  of  their  slen- 
der youth ;  while  the  new  generation,  trained  in  a  later 
fashion,  felt  as  uncomfortable  and  mistimed  in  ruffles, 
knee-breeches,  and  buckles  as  it  would  have  felt  in  a 
Roman  toga  or  an  Athenian  chlamys.  Absolutism,  per- 
plexed but  not  beaten,  decreed  that  the  old  clothes  were 
a  perfect  fit,  and  that  any  one  who  thought  otherwise 
should  atone  for  his  bad  taste  by  imprisonment,  banish- 
ment, or  death :  a  simple  expedient,  which  silenced  for  a 
time  all  open  grumbling.  A  man  might  tell  his  wife, 
if  he  had  full  confidence  in  her  discretion,  that  his  sleeves 
pinched,  or  that  his  legs  shivered  in  silk  stockings,  but 
woe  unto  him  if  he  made  these  revelations  in  public. 
Let  us  now  examine  in  detail  the  ciTt  of  some  of  this  an- 
tique ap])arel  in  wliich  the  restored  Absolutists  dressed 
their  Italians  subjects. 

The  condition  of  the  Kingdom  of  Naples  was  peeid- 
iarly  confused.  During  the  eighteenth  century  some 
necessary  reforms  had  been  promulgated  by  Charles  of 


THE   EETUllN    OF    THE   DESPOTS.  145 

Bourbon.  The  feudal  system  flourished;  barons  had 
their  own  courts  and  were  exempt  from  many  civil  respon- 
sibilities. The  Crown  strove  to  get  what  contributions  it 
could  from  the  nobles,  using  force  when  it  was  strong, 
granting  larger  privileges  in  return  for  money  when  it 
was  weak.  The  clergy,  too,  were  almost  free  from  royal 
authority ;  they  had  their  own  courts,  and  their  pensions 
from  the  government  in  addition  to  the  revenue  they  drew 
from  their  vast  possessions,  from  the  oblations  of  the  poor 
and  the  gifts  of  the  rich.  Even  in  the  courts  controlled 
by  the  government  there  was  little  justice:  the  Crown 
prosecutor  paid  for  proofs  against  the  accused,  and  where 
the  pay  was  in  proportion  to  the  amount  of  evidence, 
accusers  were  many  and  unscrupulous.  The  law  being 
uncertain,  both  from  the  multitude  of  codes  and  the  ve- 
nality of  judges,  crimes  abounded;  women  used  poisons, 
men  the  dagger  or  other  violent  means,  and  punishment 
was  rare,  although  the  judges,  whether  civil  or  ecclesi- 
astical, resorted  to  torture  as  well  as  to  paid  informers, 
to  discover  the  guilty.  Charles  strove  in  some  measure 
to  abolish  tliese  abuses;  but  by  passing  special  laws  he 
added  a  twelfth  to  the  eleven  codes  already  in  operation, 
and  his  reforms,  from  lacking  uniformity,  lacked  perma- 
nence. He  encouraged  connnerce,  and  somewhat  cur- 
tailed the  aggressions  of  the  nobility  and  clergy,  but  since 
his  purpose  was  to  strengthen  the  Crown  by  autocratic 
methods,  rather  than  to  build  up  the  welfare  of  the  people 
on  a  constitutional  basis,  the  perpetuation  of  his  reforms 
depended  on  the  wliim  of  his  successors. 

Nevertheless,  Naples  had  surely  ini])roved,  wlien  the 
French  Kevolution  came  to  clieck  tlie  ])r()gressive  tendency 
of  every  A])solutist  ruler.  Ferdinand  IV,  now  King  of 
Naples,  willingly  tui-ned  his  face  backward.  Through 
the  aid  of  I'^ngland,  he  recovered  his  throne  after  the  first 
storm  of  revolution.  His  Austrian  wife,  (^iieen  Caro- 
line, played  the  j)rocuress  between  Lady  Hamilton,  wife 


146  THE   DAWN   OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

of  the  British  Ambassador,  and  Lord  Nelson,  commander 
of  the  British  fleet.  His  minion,  Cardinal  RufPo,  pun- 
ished rebels  with  an  atrocity  which,  had  it  been  exercised 
in  a  lars;er  field,  would  have  made  the  name  of  Ruffo  as 
eternally  detestable  as  that  of  Attila ;  and  whatever  Ruffo 
did,  that  Nelson  tacitly  approved  by  his  presence  at  the 
Neapolitan  court  and  council.  But  in  1806  the  long- 
dreaded  French  could  no  longer  be  resisted.  Ferdinand 
fled  to  Sicily,  and  the  kingdom  on  the  mainland  was  as- 
signed by  Napoleon  to  his  brother  Joseph,  who  two  years 
later  was  succeeded  by  Murat.  The  French  broom  swept 
clean.  The  civil  code,  which  had  filled  a  hundred  vol- 
umes, was  replaced  by  the  Code  Napoleon;  the  feudal 
system  was  abolished;  monasteries  were  suppressed;  the 
army  was  replenished  by  a  regular  conscription;  Murat's 
court  repeated  in  miniature  the  grandiosity  of  Napoleon's; 
and  he  too,  though  revolutionary  and  though  shrewd 
enough  to  perceive  the  benefits  to  be  derived  from  an  ad- 
ministration more  in  harmony  with  the  new  ideas  of  the 
century,  was  arbitrary  in  executing  the  laws.  Neverthe- 
less, Naples  advanced  under  his  rule.  Liberal  opinions 
circulated  freely,  acting  as  raw  wine  acts  on  men  who 
have  fasted  too  long.  The  masses,  the  most  superstitious 
and  turbulent  of  any  in  Italy,  held  religion  in  slight 
repute,  now  that  a  power  stronger  than  the  priests  was  in 
the  ascendant.  Murat,  deeming  himself  strong,  imitated 
Napoleon  by  drawing  to  him  as  many  of  the  old  aristo- 
cracy as  had  not  followed  Ferdinand  into  Sicily,  and  by 
filling  the  gaps  with  newly-created  nobles  from  among 
his  generals  and  friends.  He  coquetted  with  the  nobles 
when  he  wished  to  coerce  the  people,  and  with  the  people 
when  he  wished  to  repress  the  nobles;  and  when  misfor- 
tune fell  upon  him  in  1815,  both  classes  rejoiced  at  his 
departure. 

The  position  of  a  restored  monarch  must  always    be 
difficult.      If  he  be  wise,  he  will  forget  the  past  and  en- 


THE    RETURN    OF   THE    DESPOTS.  147 

deavor  to  treat  with  equal  justice  those  wlio  were  loyal  to 
him  during  liis  exile  and  those  who  upheld  his  rival.  But 
Ferdinand  was  neither  wise  nor  just.  He  had  shocked 
even  the  English  by  his  acts  in  Sicily,  where  he  had 
showed  that  his  only  qualifications  for  governing  were 
the  perfidy  and  craft,  without  the  resoluteness,  which 
should  belong  to  a  Machiavellian  desjjot.  Pie  began  his 
new  reign,  however,  with  fair  promises,  issuing  from 
Messina  five  decrees  (May  20-24,  1815)  in  which  he 
bespoke  "peace,  concord,  and  oblivion  of  tlie  past;"  pro- 
posed fundamental  laws  and  political  liberty,  with  for- 
mal guarantees  for  the  State;  hinted  at  a  Constitution; 
pledged  himself  to  confirm  the  existing  civil  and  military 
apjwintees,  to  deal  impartially  with  IVIuratists  and  Bour- 
bons, Neapolitans  and  Sicilians,  and  to  maintain  the 
reforms  introduced  by  the  French.^  Of  similar  import 
was  the  treaty  of  Casalanza  (May  20,  1815)  between  the 
Austrian  general  and  the  defeated  Neapolitan  com- 
mander. The  Emperor  of  Austria,  through  his  agent, 
personally  guaranteed  that  "nobody  shall  be  persecuted 
for  opinions  or  conduct  previous  to  the  establishment  of 
Ferdinand  IV  on  the  throne  of  Naples;  "  "full  and  entire 
amnesty,  without  any  exceptions  or  restriction : "  that 
"the  sale  of  property  is  irrevocably  preserved; '"  tliat  "the 
public  debt  will  be  guaranteed;"  that  "any  Neapolitan 
shall  be  eligible  to  civil  and  military  offices  and  cnqjloy- 
ments  ;  "  that  "tlie  ancient  and  the  new  nobility  shall  be 
preserved;"  that  "every  soldier  in  the  service  of  Na])les, 
who  shall  take  the  oath  to  King  Ferdinand,  shall  be  main- 
tained in  his  grade,  honors,  and  stijiends."''^  To  tiiese 
promises  th(!  liuurbon  king  and  tin;  Ilapsburg  emperor 
jdedged  theii'  solemn  faith  as  sovereigns  and  as  devout 
Catholics.  On  flune  7  Ferdinand  on  horseback  entei-ed 
Naph's  amid  the  acclamations  of  a  people  easilv  cajoled. 

'   Collctta:    Ilisturii  of  Siiplis   (Kn-lisli   tiaiisl.iiion  1)\  S.  lloimr.  Kiliii- 
hui.;li,  ls:,S),ii,  lMS. 

-    Full  text  ill   riiiotii  :    >:"riii  il'  I'^hiii.  i.  1^11 


148  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

The  King  chose  ministers  against  whom  the  public  had 
at  fii'st  little  to  object ;  but  they  soon  proved  themselves 
easy  tools  of  reaction  and  persecution.  No  more  was 
heard  of  the  Constitution :  the  French  codes  were  in  part 
abolished  and  in  part  continued,  pending  the  com})ila- 
tion  of  others  more  agreeable  to  the  Bourbon  autocrat. 
His  subjects  learned  erelong,  says  Colletta,  "that  the 
offices  they  held,  the  property  they  owned,  and  their  very 
lives,  were  no  longer  theirs  by  right,  but  were  to  be  con- 
sidered as  gifts  conferred  by  the  clemency  of  the  King."  ^ 
Immediate  measures  had  to  be  taken  to  collect  funds  for 
the  ordinary  expenses  of  government  and  for  discharging 
debts  recently  contracted  by  Ferdinand.  He  had  agreed 
to  pay  the  Austrian s  twenty-six  million  francs  for  recon- 
quering his  kingdom ;  he  had  spent  nine  millions  more  as 
a  lobbying  fund  among  the  most  influential  members  of 
the  Congress;  he  owed  Beauharnais  five  millions;  and 
he  had,  besides,  the  Austrian  army  and  his  own  troops 
to  provide  for.  Tommasi,  Minister  of  Finance,  met  the 
emergency  by  peculiar  means :  he  proposed  that  national 
property  should  be  sold,  and  that  the  Exchequer  should 
issue  rentes  with  which  the  public  might  buy  in  the  prop- 
erty, but  he  took  care  to  secure  much  of  it  for  himself  at 
a  low  figure,  before  the  piiblic  sales.  He  also  deprived 
hospitals,  savings  institutions,  and  other  corporations  of 
their  patrimony,  giving  them  rentes  of  uncertain  value  in 
exchange.  Under  this  administration  of  dishonesty  and 
incompetence  the  public  debt  was  soon  doubled. 

The  King  was  further  perplexed  in  dealing  with  his 
army,  chiefly  composed  of  men  who  had  favored  Murat. 
In  spite  of  his  pledges,  and  disregarding  the  rule  of  sen- 
iority, he  promoted  Sicilians  above  Muratists,  and  assigned 
smaller  pay  to  the  latter,  even  when  they  held  the  same 
rank  as  the  former.  He  reestablished  commissions  of 
military  judicature.      Nugent,  the  Austrian   general,  was 

1  Colletta.  ii,  249. 


THE    RETURN    OF    THE    DESPOTS.  149 

appointed  commander-in-chief  of  all  the  forces,  —  an  act 
of  partiality  which  offended  the  native  officers  of  either 
clique,  as  they  were  all  jealous  of  being  conunanded  by 
a  foreigner.  The  King  also  abolished  the  conscription, 
which  being  a  French  method  was  liatefid  to  him :  in  its 
stead  he  called  for  voluntary  recruits,  but  he  was  obliged 
soon  to  return  in  fact,  but  not  in  name,  to  the  con- 
scription. These  changes  were  unpopular.  Under  the 
French,  conscripts  had  been  well-treated  and  decently 
clad;  now  they  had  poor  food  and  shabby  uniforms.  The 
old  militia,  eighty  thousand  strong,  had  been  divided  into 
twenty -one  regiments,  one  for  each  province;  now  it  was 
made  exclusive,  only  landholders  being  eligible  to  it,  and 
its  numbers  were  reduced. 

Still  more  unsatisfactory  was  the  Bourbon  achninistra- 
tion  of  justice.  After  long  waiting,  the  new  codes,  six 
in  number,  appeared,  —  imperfect,  disorderly  schemes, 
combining  eighteenth  century  revivals  and  new  defects 
with  what  had  been  least  desirable  in  the  French  code. 
Divorce  and  civil  marriage  were  prohibited.  There  were 
no  juries.  Trials  were  conducted  by  benches  of  three  or 
five  judges,  who,  having  already  taken  part  in  the  pre- 
liminary examination  of  the  accused,  could  not  be  un- 
biased in  tlieir  judgment.  Arrests  could  be  made  pro- 
miscuously, and  as  there  was  no  law  of  hahcdx  corpits,  the 
prisoner,  whether  guilty  or  innocent,  might  insist  in  vain 
for  trial.  Thus,  arrest  was  often  as  burdensome  as  con- 
viction. The  power  of  the  Court  of  A])peal  was  limited ; 
the  old  abuse  of  fines  and  remissions  was  restored.  This 
enabled  the  rich  to  buy  themselves  off;  but  wliat  esea])e 
had  the  poor,  who  lacked  botli  money  and  iufiuenee? 
Judg(^s  were  removed  for  no  otlier  cause  tlian  tliat  they 
had  been  aj)pointed  by  Murat.  and  their  successors,  ow- 
ing their  offices  to  tlie  pleasure  of  tlie  (^-owii,  took  care 
to  render  verdicts  satisfactory  to  the  Crown.  A  spy 
dogged  each  judge,  and  rc|>()itc(I  all   his  acts  to  the  Min- 


150  THE   DAWN    OF   ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

istry.  Open  confiscation  was  not  permitted,  nor  was 
torture  at  present  revived ;  but  in  place  of  these  former 
outrages,  capital  punishment  of  a  most  brutal  kind  was 
adopted.  According  to  his  offense,  the  condemned  crim- 
inal, clad  in  yellow  or  in  black,  with  feet  shod  or  bare, 
with  eyes  bandaged  or  free,  and  with  a  placard  stating 
his  crime  tied  round  his  neck,  was  publicly  executed,  and 
after  death  his  body  was  often  mutilated.  These  spec- 
tacles stimulated  the  brutal  instincts  of  a  populace  always 
excitable.  Blasphemy  was  punished  by  confinement  in 
a  lunatic  asylum,  because,  it  was  argued,  no  sane  person 
would  blaspheme.  The  commercial  laws  were  mediaeval 
and  oppressive;  the  Court  of  Chancery  was  despotic. 
Merchants  complained  at  the  unwise  tariff  restrictions 
which  enabled  foreign  ships  to  carry  on  all  the  commerce 
between  Naples  and  other  lands. 

The  Council  of  State,  whose  deliberations  were  secret 
and  irresponsible,  was  a  sort  of  Star  Chamber;  its  mem- 
bers found  their  advantage  in  proposing  measures  which 
would  be  agreeable  to  the  King.  The  Cabinet,  composed 
of  eight  ministers  and  the  Director  of  the  Police,  was 
likewise  irresponsible.  Tenure  of  office  depended  on  the 
sovereign's  whim;  therefore,  the  ministers  made  a  busi- 
ness of  concealing  from  him  any  information  concerning 
the  state  of  the  country  that  might  turn  him  against  them. 
A  despot's  advisers  easily  persuade  him  that  his  rule  is 
just  and  popular.  Ferdinand,  who  cared  not  a  fig  for 
justice  or  popularity,  only  demanded  of  his  servants  that, 
whatever  they  did,  they  would  make  his  despotism  secure. 
The  man  after  his  own  heart  was  the  Prince  of  Canosa, 
Director  of  Police,  and  an  able  imitator  of  Cardinal 
Ruffo.  He  had  served  Ferdinand  during  Murat's  time, 
by  instigating  rebellion  in  the  kingdom  of  Naples,  collect- 
ing a  band  of  ruffians  from  the  galleys  of  Ponza  and  Pan- 
telleria,  and  unloading  them  on  the  mainland.  Now,  he 
employed  the  vilest  agents  to  carry  out  his  orders.      His 


THE    RETURN    OF    THE    DESPOTS.  151 

ferocity  was  rather  that  of  a  merciless  conqueror  than 
that  of  an  authorized  minister,  and  since  the  police  was 
the  most  valid  sui)port  of  despotism,  Canosa  had  an  un- 
limited Held  for  his  cruelty  and  deceit.  His  persecutions 
were  so  ruthless  that  they  called  out  the  remonstrance 
of  the  representatives  of  the  foreign  Powers  at  Naples; 
but  it  was  only  after  repeated  importuning  that  Fer- 
dinand was  induced  to  dismiss  an  officer  who  had  ful- 
filled the  royal  wishes  with  more  zeal  than  discretion. 
Canosa  retired,  but  not  in  disgrace,  for  the  King  bestowed 
upon  him  new  titles  and  an  annual  pension  of  sixty  thou- 
sand crowns. 

Upon  the  Neapolitans,  a  people  which  had  been  sys- 
tematically corrupted  by  its  Aragonese  and  Bourbon  mas- 
ters, and  which  had  come  to  regard  law  as  ])ersecuti<)n 
and  industry  as  the  foolish  amassing  of  wealth  for  the 
royal  tax-gatherer  to  seize,  Ferdinand's  arbitrary  and 
incompetent  administration  naturally  jjroduced  evil  re- 
sults. Whatever  was  vicious  or  Ijrutal  in  their  tempera- 
ment was  aroused.  The  weak  trusted  to  hypocrisy ;  the 
strong  protected  themselves  by  open  violence.  Crimes  of 
the  barbarous  type  were  connnon.  Kespect  for  law,  rev- 
erence for  justice  would  have  seemed  foolish  to  men  who 
knew  that  the  judicial  system  arrayed  against  them  was 
but  a  nuichine  for  punishing  tliose  who  were  suspected  of 
political  heresy  or  those  wlio  were  too  poor  to  buy  an 
ac({uittal.  This  is  tlie  inevitable  dire  effect  of  a  tyranny 
which  bases  its  scheme  of  i-ight  and  wrong,  not  on 
morality  but  on  fictitious  criminality.  When  a  person 
suspected  of  liberal  opinions  is  put  to  death,  while  a  mis- 
creant guilty  of  many  nuirdei-s  is  lightly  })unished,  i)o])u- 
lar  notions  concerning  virtue  and  vice  nnist  be  ])erverted. 
How  shall  a  community  estimate  eiiines,  when  judges 
])unish  offenders  whom  the  king  hates,  and  ])ai'(lon  those 
whom  he  favors,  though  the  guilt  of  both  he  idi'iitical? 
Italy's  many  masters  had  all  taught  one  lesson,  — deceit; 


152  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

and  the  Italians,  quick  and  subtle  by  instinct,  had  learned 
that  to  simulate  and  to  dissimidate,  to  lie  and  to  betray, 
are  not  evil  in  themselves,  but  evil  only  when  they  fail. 
And  the  police,  who  in  a  justly  governed  country  are  re- 
garded as  the  protectors  of  law-abiding  citizens,  become 
odious  when,  as  in  Naples,  they  are  employed  to  hunt 
down  and  persecute  those  whom  the  government  pro- 
scribes. 

Such  a  distortion  of  justice  encouraged  violent  criminals 
in  all  parts  of  Ferdinand's  kingdom.  The  burglars, 
thieves,  and  assassins  who  thronged  the  cities,  the  bri- 
gands and  highwaymen  who  infested  the  country,  com- 
mitted their  crimes  in  scorn,  and  often  with  the  conni- 
vance of  the  police.  Grant  that  an  officer  was  honest, 
his  very  honesty  might  bring  him  a  reprimand:  for  he 
could  not  tell  but  that  the  ruffian  he  arrested  might  be 
on  friendly  terms  with  the  Crown  or  Cabinet.  As  an 
instance  of  this,  we  are  told  that  some  of  the  inhabitants 
of  Piagine,  a  village  near  Salerno,  seized  and  burnt  alive 
a  family  which  had  been  loyal  to  Murat.  The  brutes 
were  arrested,  but  an  advocate  liurried  to  Naples  to  in- 
form the  King  that  they  had  in  times  gone  by  done  him 
good  service  as  brigands.  The  King  at  once  pardoned 
them;  but  before  the  advocate  could  bear  the  news  to 
them,  they  had  been  summarily  condemned  and  e?tecuted 
by  the  local  tribunal,  wliich  the  King  did  not  fail  to 
punish.^  Again,  we  might  quote  the  case  of  Ronca,  a 
brigand  guilty  of  countless  murders.  Irritated  by  the 
crying  of  his  babe,  he  snatched  it  from  its  mother  and 
battered  out  its  brains  against  a  tree;  and  when  the  poor 
woman  remonstrated,  he  turned  and  slew  her.  He  was 
arrested,  but  the  King,  in  view  of  the  past  fidelity  of  this 
devil,  released  him  without  any  punishment. 

Brigandage  had  been  an  instrument  regularly  em- 
ployed by  Ferdinand  to  harass  jVlurat.  He  had  kept 
1  CoUetta,  ii,  200. 


THE   RETURN   OF   THE   DESPOTS.  153 

Ronca,  Guariglia,  Fra  Diavolo,  and  others  only  less  in- 
famous than  these  chiefs  in  his  pay.  He  had  even 
appointed  Fra  Diavolo  a  brigadier  -  general  and  Duke 
of  Bassano.  liomance  has  succeeded  in  throwing  a 
glamour  of  respectability  round  these  law-breakers,  but 
their  exploits,  when  shorn  to  the  stature  of  truth,  appear 
simply  as  crimes,  vulgar  or  base  or  bloodthirsty.  The 
prevalence  of  brigandage  indicated  the  corruption  of  the 
government  and  the  lawlessness  of  the  people.  Murat, 
through  the  sternness  of  his  lieutenant  Manhes,  had, 
indeed,  suppressed  the  brigands,  in  spite  of  the  encourage- 
ment they  received  from  the  Bourbons ;  but  when  Ferdi- 
nand was  restored  to  Naples,  they  sprang  up  again,  and 
were  as  annoying  to  the  Bourbons  as  they  had  formerly 
been  helpful.  Everything  conspired  to  make  brigandage 
popular  and  profitable.  Tlie  administration  was  so  slack 
that  it  was  easier  to  steal  than  to  earn  one's  livelihood. 
Besides  the  veteran  bands  tem])orarily  dissolved  by 
Manhes,  there  were  many  discharged  soldiers  who  had 
now  no  occupation,  and  who  preferred  banditry  to  toil. 
There  were  also  many  criminals  who,  escaping  arrest, 
took  to  the  mountains,  and  preyed  upon  the  peasantry. 
Some  adopted  the  wild  life  from  a  love  of  adventure, 
others  because  they  were  in  temporary  need  of  money. 
Many  of  the  communities  sympatiiized  with  the  brigands, 
but  more  frecpiently  they  were  terrorized  into  paying  trib- 
ute to  tliem.^  The  situation  grew  so  serious  that  even 
the  Bourbon  government  felt  ashamed,  and  took  measures 
to  check  the  disgrace.  In  each  province  a  rlunta  was 
appointed  composed  of  tiie  intendant,  the  local  com- 
mander of  tlie  troo})s,  and  t lie  judge  of  the  criminal  ctmrt. 
They  drew  up  a  list  of  outlaws,  set  a  piice  on  evci-y  out- 
law's head,  and  when  one  was  ca})tnre(l,  they  had  only 
to  identify  him  with  a   name  on   the  list.      Identilieation 

'    A  f^ood  afC'omit  of  tlic  ])rin('i|>.'i1    liiitraiids  will   be  fuiiiid  in  1).  Ililton'.s 
liriijiuulaiji;  in  Italij  {'2  vols.,  J.oiidoii,    JSdl). 


154  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

being  established,  he  was  executed  without  trial.  This 
Draconic  method  might  have  served  the  ends  of  justice 
had  the  lists  been  honestly  compiled;  but  among  the 
names  upon  it  were  often  those  of  persons  whom  the 
government  wished  to  be  rid  of  for  political  reasons,  and 
sometimes  those  of  private  enemies  of  members  of  the 
Junta.  As  there  was  no  appeal  from  injustice,  so  there 
was  no  preventive  of  carelessness,  and  victims  perished 
whose  names  were  inscribed  through  a  mistake.  Such 
blunders  and  such  arbitrariness  made  the  Juntas  more 
hateful  to  the  peaceable  citizens  than  to  the  brigands 
themselves;  and  the  repressive  measures  came  to  be 
regarded  as  ingenious  masks  for  political  persecution. 

The  Bourbons,  though  they  wished  to  act  uprightly, 
could  not ;  their  inveterate  duplicity  spoiled,  in  its  execu- 
tion, every  just  law  they  framed.  There  was  a  villain 
named  Gaetano  Vardarelli,  who  had  deserted  from 
Murat's  army,  turned  brigand  and  fled  to  Sicily,  where 
he  had  been  welcomed  by  Ferdinand  and  made  a  sergeant 
in  the  Guards.  In  1815  he  deserted  again,  and  soon  had 
under  his  command  a  band  of  about  forty  highwaymen, 
some  kindred  in  blood,  all  akin  in  villainy.  These  Var- 
darelli ravaged  the  Capitanata,  plundering  the  rich  but 
sparing  the  poor,  and  so  winning  popular  esteem.  Like 
Bedouins,  they  almost  lived  on  horseback;  their  organiza- 
tion was  strict,  and  the  word  of  the  chief  was  supreme. 
Neapolitan  troops  were  sent  against  them,  —  the  Var- 
darelli, on  their  swift  steeds,  vanished  unharmed;  Aus- 
trian troops  pursued  them,  —  the  Vardarelli  laughed  at 
their  pursuers.  It  was  whispered  that  they  were  in 
league  with  the  Carbonari.  The  government  — even 
that  government  — felt  annoyed  and  asliamed.  Forty 
bandits  on  the  one  hand,  a  government  with  forty 
thousand  soldiers  on  the  other,  yet  unable  to  capture  the 
forty.  So  the  Cabinet  resorted  to  deceit ;  it  treated  with 
the  Vardarelli  as  a  belligerent  Power  on    e(pial  terms. 


THE   RETURN   OF   THE   DESPOTS.  155 

The  treaty,  signed  at  Naples,  July  6,  1817,  is  as  follows: 
"1.  The  VardaioUi  and  their  followers  shall  be  granted 
pardon  and  oblivion  of  their  past  misdeeds.  2.  Their 
band  shall  be  converted  into  a  squadron  of  gendarmes. 

3.  The  pay  of  their  chief,  Gaetano  Vardarelli,  shall  be 
ninety  ducats  a  month,  and  of  each  of  the  three  subordi- 
nate officers,  forty  ducats,  and  of  every  gendarme,  thirty 
ducats.     They  shall  be  paid   every  month   in   advance. 

4.  The  squadron  shall  take  the  oath  to  the  king  before 
the*  royal  commissary;  they  shall  be  subject  to  the  general 
in  command  of  the  province,  and  shall  be  employed  to 
pursue  the  public  malefactors  in  every  part  of  the  king- 
dom." ^  Thus  the  outlaws  of  yesterday  became  king's 
servants  to-day.  We  are  told  that  they  fulfilled  their 
agreement  against  the  other  bandits  in  the  Capitauata, 
but  although  in  the  King's  pay,  they  did  not  trust  the 
King.  They  avoided  cities,  posted  sentinels  to  guard  their 
sleep,  and  continued  in  their  nomad  life.  But  one  day, 
in  the  village  of  Ururi,  in  Apulia,  where  they  expected 
to  meet  only  friends,  a  volley  was  fired  upon  them  by  men 
concealed  in  buildings  facing  the  little  public  square. 
Gaetano,  his  two  brothers,  and  six  comrades  fell  dead; 
the  rest  leapt  on  their  horses  and  escaped.  The  govern- 
ment caused  the  assassins  to  be  arrested  and  pi-oseeuted 
witli  so  gi'cat  a  semblance  of  sincerity  that  the  Vardarelli 
were  soon  enticed  into  another  trap.  General  Armato, 
commander  of  A])ulia,  invited  them  to  come  to  Foggia  to 
a  military  review,  and  to  elect  new  officers.  All  but 
eight  accepted  the  invitation,  and  rode  gayly  into  the 
square  at  Foggia,  shouting,  ''Long  live  the  King." 
Then  they  dismounted,  and  were  ranged  in  line  for  the 
review.  vVrniato,  fi-oin  a  balcony,  smiled  and  ai)])lauded. 
Meanwhile,  Neajxditan  ti-oops  stealtliily  surrounded  the 
S(|uare,  and  when  Armato  gave  the  signal  by  raising  his 
cap,  they  advanced   witii   nniskets  leveled  and   called    on 

1  Collcttn.  ii.  2'.t2. 


156  THE    DAWN    OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

the  Vai'darelli  to  surrender.  The  ex-brigands  mounted 
in  haste  and  made  as  if  to  break  through  the  ranks, 
whereupon  the  sokliers  fired.  Nine  of  the  Vardarelli 
were  killed,  only  two  escaped  in  the  confusion;  the 
others,  unhorsed,  fled  to  the  cellar  of  an  old  building 
near  by.  The  troops  lighted  a  fire  at  the  entrance  of 
this  refuge,  and  would  have  suffocated  them.  Two  shot 
themselves,  one  was  burned  to  death,  the  rest,  seventeen 
in  number,  surrendered.  A  court-martial  found  them 
guilty  of  having  broken  the  treaty  of  July  6,  and  they 
were  executed  that  same  day.  The  eight  who  had  kept 
away  from  ambush,  and  the  two  who  had  ridden  off,  were 
soon  afterwards  killed.  Thus  the  government  triumphed, 
but  by  such  means  that  the  people  were  inclined  to  regard 
the  Vardarelli  as  heroes,  and  to  pity  them  as  martyrs  to 
the  treachery  of  the  King.^ 

Such  was  the  lawlessness  on  the  surface,  and  such  were 
the  Bourbon  methods  of  quelling  it.  We  shall  hereafter 
explore  the  burrows  in  which  the  secret  societies  plotted 
still  more  formidable  rebellion.  Other  calamities  beset 
Ferdinand's  government.  A  virulent  plagiie  broke  out 
which  the  superstitious  regarded  as  a  judgment  of  God 
on  the  execution  of  Murat.  Insufficient  harvests  in  two 
successive  years  caused  a  famine.  The  price  of  grain 
rose  to  a  ducat  for  ten  pounds.  The  Minister  of  Finance 
decreed  laws  intended  to  relieve  the  distress,  but  in  reality 
they  created  a  monopoly  of  cereals  and  enriched  the 
monopolists.  The  Austrian  army  of  occupation,  which 
helped  to  exhaust  the  resources  of  the  country,  was  at 
length  withdrawn,  in  August,  1817,  leaving  behind  it  a 
"fair  name  for  discipline  and  good  conduct."  But  the 
general  sickness  and  distress  were  not  relieved  until  na- 
ture bore  a  good  harvest  in  the  following  year.  The  gov- 
ernment, through  ignorance  or  perversity,  failed  in  its 
efforts  to  reclaim  waste  districts  to  fertility  j  and  it  im- 
1  CoUetta,  ii,  291-5  ;  Turotti,  i,  527  ;  Pog-g-i,  i,  178-81. 


THE   RETURN   OF  THE   DESPOTS.  157 

poverished  others  by  restoring  pre  -  revolutionary  laws 
which  reduced  the  peasantry  to  serfdom.  The  body  poli- 
tic was  sick  of  a  chronic  disease,  and  the  court  physicians 
had  only  remedies  as  obsolete  as  those  of  an  Iroquois 
medicine  man. 

In  his  relations  with  foreign  governments,  Ferdinand 
neither  showed  firmness  nor  commanded  respect,  lie 
joined  the  Holy  Alliance,  and  was  the  only  ruler  in  Italy 
who  submitted  completely  to  Metternich's  dictation.  His 
most  serious  trouble  was  with  the  Pope.  In  old  times, 
the  King  of  Naples  had  done  homage  to  the  Pope  for  his 
kingdom,  and  had  sent  every  year  the  offering  of  the 
chlnea,  as  a  recognition  of  his  vassalage.  This  chinca 
was  a  white  horse  which,  together  with  a  purse  of  seven 
thousand  gold  ducats,  the  Neapolitan  ambassador  pre- 
sented to  his  Holiness,  amid  much  ceremony,  every  29th 
of  June.  But  in  177G  there  had  been  a  quarrel,  and  the 
tribute  was  discontinued.  Pius  VII  now  pressed  the 
claim,  not  because  he  needed  another  horse  in  his  well- 
stocked  stables,  but  because  he  was  jealous  of  preserving 
and  increasing  the  temporal  power  of  the  Papacy.  Fer- 
dinand at  first  struck  an  independent  attitude.  In  a  let- 
ter to  the  Pope,  he  politely  declined  to  renew  the  ancient 
custom,  and  advised  that  the  Church  should  "conform 
herself  in  tem])oral  matters  to  the  century,  and  to  the 
condition  of  the  times."  ^  There  was  bickering  and 
finally  negotiation,  whieh  ended  in  the  signing  of  a  Con- 
cordat between  Na})les  and  the  Vatican.  By  the  terms  of 
this  Concordat,  signed  at  Terracina,  February  10,  1818, 
by  Cardinal  Consalvi  for  the  Pope  and  De'  Medici  for  the 
King,  Rome  recovered  lier  ])<)wer  in  the  Two  Sicilies. 
Tlie  former  dioceses,  to  the  numl)er  of  10!t.  were  to  be 
reinstated;  tliey  liad  l)een  recbiccd  from  I'.Vl  to  43  by 
iVIurat.  Compensation  was  to  be  ])aid  by  the  State  for 
Church  property  which   the    French  had   sold.      As  many 

'    Full  text  ill  'I'lirotti.  i.  ;J1T  :  ("oUctla.  ii,  :iiMI. 


158  THE   DAWN   OF  ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

monasteries  as  possible  were  to  be  restored.  The  Crown 
could  not  henceforth  alienate  ecclesiastical  property. 
Kome  was  to  receive  an  annual  tribute  of  12,000  ducats. 
Ecclesiastical  tribunals  were  to  be  reopened.  Bishops 
were  empowered  to  censure  all  persons  who  transgressed 
ecclesiastical  laws.  Intercourse  between  the  bishops  and 
the  Pope  was  to  be  unimpeded,  and  every  one  was  to  have 
the  right  of  appealing  to  Rome.  Bishops  might  suppress 
any  publications  contrary  to  the  doctrines  of  the  Church. 
The  King  was  to  nominate  bishops,  the  Pope  to  confirm 
or  reject  them.  Bishops  must  swear  allegiance  to  the 
King. 

By  this  Concordat,  Rome  regained  an  authority  which 
caused  dissatisfaction  among  the  Neapolitans.  Laymen 
complained  because  it  virtually  handed  over  education  in 
the  universities,  colleges,  and  public  and  private  schools 
to  ecclesiastics;  they  complained,  also,  because  it  in- 
creased their  taxes,  since  every  bishop  and  priest  received 
an  annual  subsidy  from  the  State;  they  complained 
against  an  ecclesiastical  censorship,  and  against  turning 
the  confessional  into  an  instrument  for  revealing  political 
secrets  to  the  government.  The  disclosures  made  in  the 
confessional  were,  in  theory,  inviolable ;  but  the  Neapol- 
itans knew  the  untrustworthiness  of  their  clergy,  and 
moreover,  every  bishop,  in  taking  the  oath  of  allegiance, 
promised  to  inform  the  King  of  "anything  which  might 
tend  to  the  injury  of  the  State."  ^  The  clergy,  on  their 
side,  also  grumbled.  Under  the  loose  condition  of  the 
past  twelve  years,  priests  had  enjoyed  unusual  indepen- 
dence; now  they  were  held  again  to  a  strict  episcopal 
discipline ;  and  monks  who,  since  the  suppression  of  the 
convents,  had  lived  like  any  other  worldling,  had  to  re- 
turn to  their  gowns  and  their  cloisters.  The  populace, 
ever  skeptical  of  clerical  virtue,  laughed  to  see  many  of 
these  fat-paun(;hed,  sensual  fellows,  after  their  long  holi- 

1  Article  12  of  the  Concordat. 


THE   RETURN   OF  THE   DESPOTS.  159 

day  of  open  libertinism,  now  reproved  and  driven  to  be 
more  discreet,  if  not  more  chaste. 

The  grumbling  availed  not;  for  king  and  pope  had 
agreed,  and  all  must  obey.  Ferdinand  paid  a  visit  to 
Rome,  did  homage  to  Pius,  and  the  reconciliation  was 
marked  by  festivities.  The  Pope  showed  his  good-will 
by  canonizing  Alfonso  Maria  de'  Liguori,  a  Neaiwlitan 
by  birth,  and  one  of  the  ablest  polemical  writers  among 
the  Jesuits.  The  King  tried  to  amuse  his  host  and  the 
Romans  by  the  sallies  of  his  buffoon,  Casacciello,  —  tlie 
last  court  buffoon  in  Europe,  —  but  the  Romans  found 
the  poor  fool's  jests  insipid,  and  ridiculed  Ferdinand  for 
finding  them  funny. 

Ferdinand  was  of  that  common  type  of  monarchs  whom 
the  accident  of  birth  places  in  an  eminent  position  to 
which  their  mediocre  talents  could  never  lift  them.  King- 
ship meant  to  him  the  chance  of  giatifying  his  carnal  ap- 
petites and  his  whims  without  scruple  or  rebuke;  govern- 
ment meant  to  him,  first,  the  keeping  of  his  subjects  in 
such  a  condition  that  he  could  extort  from  them  the  lar- 
gest revenues  with  the  least  resistance,  and  second,  the  in- 
triguing with  foreign  Powers  to  insure  the  preservation  of 
his  throne.  Although  he  had  pledged  himself  to  treat  all 
parties  alike,  it  was  only  natural  that  he  should  favor  the 
Bourbons,  who  had  been  faithful  to  him,  and  sliould  slight 
the  Muratists,  who  had  supported  his  rival.  Towards 
these  he  did  not  conceal  his  rancor;  for  he  di'creed  that 
the  town  of  Pizzo,  where  Murat  had  been  taken  and  shot, 
sliould  have  the  title  of  "the  most  faithful  city,  that  its 
civic  imposts  shouhl  1h>  abolished,  and  that  salt  should  be 
distributed  to  it  every  year  free."'  lie  founded  the 
Bourbon  Museum,  with  the  collection  made  by  the  Far- 
nese,  and  although  he  at  first  discontinued  the  excava- 
tions at  Pompei, — because  that  woi'k  had  been  pushed 
by  the  French,  — he  sul)se(|ueutly  oi'dered  the  diL;ging  to 
'   'I'lliolli.  i.  :;''>7  s. 


160  THE   DAWN   OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

go  on.  He  was  superstitious,  but  not  religious,  selfish, 
and  without  affection.  When  his  brother,  Charles  IV, 
ex-King  of  Spain,  lay  on  his  deathbed,  Ferdinand  was 
amusing  himself  with  the  chase,  and,  in  order  not  to  be 
interrupted,  he  left  unopened  the  bulletins  from  Charles's 
physicians.  Even  after  the  latter's  death,  while  his  body 
lay  in  state  awaiting  burial,  the  King  did  not  give  up 
his  sport.  But  he  was  soon  smitten  with  remorse  and 
alarm.  He  remembered  that  none  of  his  family  had  lived 
beyond  the  age  of  seventy,  and  he  was  now  sixty-nine; 
so  he  vowed  to  build  a  Capuchin  hermitage  in  the  royal 
park  of  Capodimonte,  in  order  to  atone  for  his  unnatural 
behavior  and  to  persuade  the  angel  of  death  to  spare  him 
yet  a  while.  He,  too,  fell  iU,  it  was  thought  fatally:  but 
he  recovered,  and  there  were  popular  rejoicings;  for  it 
was  whispered  that  he  had  promised  to  accord  "some- 
thing pleasing  to  Liberals,"  and  that  he  had  cut  off  his 
queue.  How  a  monarch  wears  his  hair  might  seem  a 
matter  of  no  concern ;  but  under  a  paternal  government 
that,  too,  had  political  significance.  To  cut  off  one's 
queue  meant  Jacobinism,  and  a  decade  or  two  earlier  it 
was  sufficient  proof  of  political  heresy  to  hang  a  man. 
That  Ferdinand  should  adopt  this  fashion,  what  did  it 
portend  but  that  he  was  become  a  Liberal?  His  subse- 
quent actions  showed,  however,  that  a  man  may  change 
the  cut  or  color  of  his  wig  without  changing  his  heart. 

In  the  States  of  the  Church  the  restoration  of  medi- 
aeval conditions  was  more  sudden  and  more  nearly  com- 
plete. Pius  VII,  and  the  cardinals  who  had  shared  with 
him  Napoleon's  severity,  came  back  clothed  in  the  attrac- 
tive robes  of  martyrdom.  Their  reception  was  enthusi- 
astic. Clericals  of  every  order  felt  as  the  Jews  felt  when 
they  reentered  Jerusalem  after  their  long  captivity ;  lay- 
men hoped  that  the  change  would  bring  them  benefits,  — 
such  is  the  temperament  of  restless,  irresolute  men.  At 
first  the  Pope's  firmness  was  hailed  as  a  good  omen;  he 


TUE   RETURN   OF   THE   DESPOTS.  IGl 

reproacilied  the  arbiters  at  Vienna  for  depriving  him  of  a 
part  of  his  possessions ;  he  asserted  his  ancient  ecclesias- 
tical rights  in  Nai)les,  Piedmont,  and  France;  he  quar- 
reled with  Austria  for  occupying  Ferrara  with  her  garri- 
son. The  Holy  Father  evidently  intended  not  to  be 
Austria's  lackey,  — that  was  a  hopeful  sign:  was  it  pos- 
sible that  he  could  have  survived  the  radical  revolutions 
of  the  past  twenty  years  without  perceiving  that  the  old 
methods  were  worn  out?  But  those  cheerful  hopers  were 
soon  grievously  mistaken ;  for  they  learned  that  just  as 
liobinson  Crusoe,  returning  home  after  his  long  isolation, 
spoke  the  language  of  his  youth,  so  the  Roman  hierarchy, 
having  regained  its  capital,  revived  speech  believed  to  be 
obsolete. 

One  of  the  Pope's  early  acts  was  to  restore  the  Com- 
pany of  Jesus,  suppressed  since  177G;  another  was  to 
encourage  the  Congregation  of  the  Propaganda,  whose 
purpose  it  was  to  spread  Catholicism  in  all  quarters  of 
the  earth.  Civil  and  judicial  posts,  which  the  French 
had  filled  with  competent  civilians,  were  handed  over  to 
ecclesiastics.  Each  of  the  Legations  was  presided  by  a 
cardinal.  Outside  of  Rome  each  of  the  nineteen  delega- 
tions into  which  the  provinces  were  divided  was  t()})ped 
by  a  prelate;  each  delegation  was  further  subdivided  into 
governments  and  comnumes,  and  although  laymen  were 
admitted  into  the  direction  of  local  affairs,  their  i)ower 
was  only  consultative ;  at  best,  they  were  but  the  shadows 
of  the  black-gowned  churchmen.  In  the  courts  likewise, 
a])peals  and  fhial  scntiMices  were  always  heard  and  given 
by  priests.  Feudal  ])rivil('ges  sprang  up  again;  baronial 
coui-ts  were  established,  and  they  only  fell  into  disuse 
when  the  nobles  found  that  they  cost  moi-e  than  they  were 
wortlj.  Indeed,  since  the  interests  of  the  ]iol)ility  coin- 
cided with  those  of  the  Curia,  tlie  eeelesiastiral  court 
could  be  relied  u])on  to  render  satisfactory  verdicts:  and 
since   all   trials   were   secret,   the   ))iiblic   coidd    not   Iciiow 


162  THE    DAWN    OF   ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

whose  gold  or  whose  influence  weighed  down  the  scales  of 
justice.  Was  it  on  this  account  that  Justice  from  olden 
times  was  represented  with  bandaged  eyes? 

Measures,  but  not  the  wisest,  were  taken  to  consolidate 
and  diminish  the  public  debt,  which  had  amounted  in 
1801  to  seventy -two  million  crowns  and  had  been  wiped 
out  by  the  French.  But  centuries  of  experience  had 
shown  prelates  to  be  incapable  financiers ;  skilful  enough 
they  were  to  gather  the  oblations  and  Peter's  pence  which 
flowed  into  the  Vatican  from  every  Catholic  diocese,  but 
inexpert  and  irregular,  when  not  actually  dishonest,  in 
laying  and  collecting  taxes.  They  now  retained  the 
French  customs  system,  but  revived  the  old  papal  system 
of  internal  taxation,  with  "monstrous  and  complicated" 
results.  The  police,  in  spite  of  their  arbitrary  powers, 
failed  to  protect  decent  citizens.  Rome  itself  swarmed 
with  ruffians  who  committed  murders  and  other  crimes, 
ahnost  without  fear  of  detection ;  in  the  provinces,  where 
capture  was  more  difficult,  highwaymen  and  criminals 
aboimded.  Mendicity,  which  had  been  sternly  prohibited 
by  the  French,  was  now  tolerated,  if  not  encouraged. 
Why  wonder  that  the  lazy  preferred  to  live  by  alms  rather 
than  by  work,  when  they  saw  thousands  of  authorized 
beggars  in  monasteries  and  convents? 

The  conscription  was  abandoned  as  being  a  French 
abomination,  but  a  Civic  Guard  was  established  to  pre- 
vent tumults  in  the  city  of  Rome.  Its  members  were 
exempt  from  duty  outside  of  the  capital ;  they  were  paid 
from  the  tax  on  wine  and  salt,  and  one  fifth  of  the  lottery 
prizes  were  given  to  their  wives,  daughters,  or  nearest 
female  relatives.  The  Pope  had  his  Pontifical  Guard,  in 
which  young  Catholic  nobles  from  different  countries 
enlisted.  Theocratic  was  the  government,  and  it  was  a 
bad  government.  The  incompetence  of  i)relates  in  per- 
forming judicial  functions,  for  instance,  was  tacitly 
acknowledged,  by  the  employment    of  lawyers  to  study 


TUE  RETURN   OF  THE   DESPOTS.  163 

the  cases  brougb*^  before  the  monsignori  of  the  Segnatura 
and  the  Ruota,  the  courts  of  appeal  in  criminal  and  civil 
cases.  These  counsel  were  called  "secret,"  because  they 
swore  not  to  reveal  their  relations  with  the  courts.  The 
real  ruler  was  the  Secretary  of  State  and  not  the  Pope, 
and  while  there  was  some  supervision  of  underlings,  the 
high  officials  gave  no  account  of  their  stewardships.  In 
the  Legations,  the  mildness  or  severity,  the  justice  or 
tyranny  of  the  rule  depended  on  the  personal  character  of 
each  cardinal.  Education,  except  that  of  youths  destined 
for  the  priesthood,  was  not  encouraged,  and  was  soon 
controlled  by  the  Jesuits.  There  are  mineral  s])rings 
whose  waters  slowly  petrify  any  object  immersed  in  them ; 
similar  was  the  effect  of  the  papal  government  on  the 
minds  and  consciences  of  its  subjects. 

Of  all  the  Italian  States,  Tuscany  had  the  fewest  griev- 
ances. The  policy  of  the  Grand  Duke,  strictly  carried 
out  by  his  chief  minister,  Fossombroni,  was  to  restrain 
his  people  as  little  as  possible  in  their  daily  affairs,  so 
long  as  they  did  not  meddle  with  politics.  lie  preserved 
the  reform  laws  of  Peter  Leopold  as  the  basis  of  his  ad- 
ministration, but  he  modified  these  so  as  to  lessen  the 
scope  of  municipal  and  communal  liberty.  This  central- 
izing process  had  been  perfected  by  Napoleon,  and  it  was 
one  of  the  few  products  of  the  Revolution  which  the 
Reactionist  princes  eagerly  adopted.  Centralization  as  a 
temporary  means  of  breaking  u]>  local  and  provincial  tra- 
ditions, and  of  impi-essing  a  uniform  government  on  an 
entire  country,  is  connnondable,  and  under  Xa})()leon  it 
was  surely  Italianizing  Italy;  but  after  the  Restoration, 
the  Peninsula  being  again  cut  up  in  small  provinces,  each 
of  whieh  was  ruled  by  an  irresjxmsible  tyrant,  the  cen- 
tralizing process  took  away  from  towns  and  comnnines 
traditional  i)rivileges  and  local  autoiioiuy,  which  might 
have  acted  as  partial  diecks  to  tyranny.  Tlie  (Jrand  Duke 
allowed  members  of  the  loi-al  boards  to  be  chosen  by  h)t, 


164  THE   DAWN   OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENPENCE. 

but  he  himself  appointed  the  gonf aloni  ji-e  and  syndics, 
and  since  he  doubled  the  property  qualifications  of  those 
who  were  eligible  to  the  boards,  and  required  that  twice 
as  many  names  should  be  chosen  as  there  were  places  to 
be  filled,  he  insured  even  in  local  matters  servile  obedi- 
ence to  his  wishes.  For  Tuscany  was  preeminently  the 
land  of  a  well-to-do  bourgeoisie,  who  prospered  by  a  wise 
system  of  agriculture  and  by  commercial  thrift,  and  who 
would  submit  to  political  dependence  so  long  as  their 
material  interests  were  not  interfered  with.  Ferdinand 
flattered  this  commercial  spirit  by  reviving  the  Order  of 
St.  Stephen,  admission  to  which  was  determined  by  the 
wealth  of  the  candidates;  and  thus,  as  in  England,  the 
glamour  of  knighthood  was  cast  round  men  successful  in 
trade.  He  encouraged  education;  refused  to  patronize 
the  Jesuits;  permitted  justice  to  have  a  deciding  voice  in 
the  ordinary  cases  in  the  tribunals ;  maintained  an  army 
merely  large  enough  to  garrison  the  few  fortresses,  and  to 
add  dignity  to  his  pompous  celebrations;  and  he  was  sat- 
isfied with  a  lenient  censorship.  He  himself  took  pride  in 
mingling  rather  familiarly  with  his  people,  as  a  father 
with  his  family.  By  day  you  might  see  him,  in  straw 
hat  and  gaiters,  walking  unattended  in  the  streets;  by 
night,  in  State  costume,  he  held  his  levees  at  the  Pitti 
Palace ;  to  which  besides  the  Court  any  one  distinguished 
in  art  or  literature  was  invited.  Thus  Tuscany  was 
regarded  as  an  oasis  amid  the  wilderness  of  despotism 
in  Italy.  Refugees  fled  thither  from  the  less  fortunate 
States,  to  enjoy  fi'eedom  from  persecution.  Real  liberty 
no  more  existed  there  than  elsewhere,  but  the  Tuscans 
were  grateful  for  the  Grand  Duke's  mild  exercise  of  his 
autocratic  power.  Those  who  nursed  patriotic  senti- 
ments knew  well  that  this  good-natured  paternalism  was 
a  poor  substitute  for  independence  and  self-government, 
but  when  they  contrasted  their  condition  with  that  of 
their  neighbors,  they  were  less  eager  to  hazard  a  revo- 


THE   RETURN   OF  THE   DESPOTS.  165 

lution  which  might  deprive  them  of  their  actual  privi- 
leges. 

Very  different  was  the  rule  of  Francis  IV,  Duke  of 
Modena.  Upon  his  restoration  in  1814  he  refrained, 
indeed,  from  extreme  retrograde  measures,  as  if  he 
thought  that  his  subjects  would  of  their  own  free-will  put 
on  the  yoke  of  Absolutism ;  but  the  next  year,  Murat's 
ephemeral  expedition,  and  the  evident  repugnance  of  the 
northern  Italians  towards  their  new  taskmaster,  taught 
him  that,  being  unable  to  win  the  affection,  he  must 
compel  the  obedience  of  his  people.  He  was  dominated 
by  two  passions,  —  the  determination  to  be  absolute 
master  of  his  pi-esent  possessions,  and  the  ambition  to 
extend  his  power.  He  deemed  himself  endowed  with  fac- 
ulties fit  to  govern  a  large  kingdom  instead  of  the  toy 
duchy  of  Modena.  He  had  married  his  niece,  the 
daughter  of  the  King  of  Piedmont,  in  the  hope  of  falling 
heir  to  the  Sardinian  monarchy ;  he  connived  with  Met- 
ternich  in  so  far  as  Metternich  encouraged  his  pretensions, 
but  hated  him  when  he  perceived  that  the  Austrian  chan- 
cellor had  no  intention  of  allowing  the  rest  of  northern 
Italy  to  be  united  imder  Francis's  sceptre.  Secretly 
cherishing  this  ambition,  he  devoted  himself  to  the  task 
of  converting  his  duchy  into  so  perfect  a  model  of  an 
autocratic  State  that  the  most  exacting  champions  of 
Absolutism  shoidd  acknowledge  his  worthiness  to  be 
intrusted  with  a  wider  dominion.  He,  therefore,  con- 
centrated the  government  in  his  own  hands.  The  three 
ministers  of  Public  Economy  and  Instruction,  of  Finance, 
and  of  Foreign  Affairs  and  Police,  were  mere  servants. 
Tlie  Council  of  State,  composed  of  sixteen  of  the  high 
nobility  never  held  a  session.  The  public  revenue  he 
regarded  as  his  private  income,  of  which  he  set  aside  as 
nuich  as  he  pleased  to  ])ay  the  current  expenses  of  gov- 
ernment. He  recalled  the  Jesjiits  and  gave  them  the 
charge  of  the  universities  of  Modena  and   Keggio.      He 


166  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

reopened  the  monasteries  and  convents  and  forced  back 
into  them  the  confraternities  and  sisterhoods  which  had 
been  dispersed  by  the  French.  He  made  a  show  of 
patronizing  art  and  science,  but  his  protection  was  spas- 
modic and  arbitrary.  The  decisions  of  the  courts  were 
set  aside  at  his  pleasure,  so  that  the  judges  were  tempted 
to  pass  verdicts  of  which  he  would  approve.  He  sup- 
pressed the  National  Guard,  maintained  only  a  small 
army,  organized  "urban"  guards  to  preserve  order  in  the 
cities  in  case  of  emergency,  and  a  military  academy 
where  young  nobles  were  trained  in  the  duties  of  court 
pages.  Hating  the  very  name  of  liberty,  he  was  inex- 
orable in  his  pursuit  of  the  Carbonari.  He  allied  himself 
with  the  opposing  sect  of  Sanfedists  and  with  the  most 
reactionary  party  at  the  Vatican.  A  strict  censorship 
was,  of  course,  one  of  his  usual  weapons.  Nevertheless, 
he  had  not  yet  displayed  that  cruelty  which  earned  for 
him  the  nicknames  "headsman"  and  "butcher."  At  the 
time  of  the  famine  he  bought  grain  abroad,  and  sold  it 
at  low  rates  to  his  subjects.  His  administration  was 
economical,  and  if  he  delighted  in  the  erection  of  costly 
buildings,  he  paid  for  them,  in  part  at  least,  out  of  his 
private  fortune,  which  was  large.  Almost  parsimonious 
in  his  ordinary  style  of  living,  on  State  occasions  he 
entertained  with  an  emperor's  magnificence.  He  was 
believed  to  be  zealous  to  the  verge  of  fanaticism  in  his 
reverence  for  the  Catholic  Church,  but  his  religion  seems 
to  have  been  based  on  calculation  rather  than  on  faith: 
there  was  a  chance  that  the  Church  possessed  the  secret 
of  salvation,  and,  like  a  prudent  man,  he  invested  in  that 
chance ;  at  any  rate,  it  could  not  harm  his  prospects  here- 
after, while  the  cooperation  of  the  Church  was  of  very 
real  practical  aid  to  him  in  battling  with  the  conspirators 
of  this  world.  1 

1  Poggi,  i,  196-8  ;     Bosellini :   Francesco  IV e  V  di  Modena  (Turin,  18G1), 
14-31. 


THE    RETURN    OF   THE    DESPOTS.  167 

At  Parma  and  Lucca,  the  return  to  the  Old  Regime 
was  rapid  but  not  violent.  The  presence  of  Austrian 
regiments  discouraged  resistance,  and  it  was  expected  that 
the  rule  of  the  two  women  to  whom  those  duchies  had 
been  assigned  would  prove  mild.  Nor  were  these  expec- 
tations wholly  disappointed.  Maria  Louisa,  ex-Empress 
of  the  French  and  now  mistress  of  Parma,  cared  for  the 
interminable  ceremonial  to  which  she  had  been  wonted  at 
Vienna,  rather  than  for  the  annoyance  of  politics.  To 
be  despotic  in  her  court,  with  its  thirteen  ladies-in-wait- 
ing and  its  twelve  chamberlains,  to  be  arbitress  in  points 
of  etiquette,  and  to  amuse  herself  with  Count  Neipperg, 
her  favorite,  and,  after  Napoleon's  death,  her  husband, 
sufficed  for  her  ambition.  Although  she  was  under  Aus- 
tria's tutelage  in  politics,  nevertheless  she  showed  more 
respect  for  justice  than  the  Austrians  commonly  showed, 
and  she  took  a  certain  pride  in  having  among  her  sub- 
jects a  few  literary  men,  as  other  rulers  had  rare  animals 
or  bric-a-brac.  The  Spanish  Maria  Louisa  at  Lucca 
was  given  to  a  life  of  pleasure.  She,  too,  relied  upon 
Austria  for  counsel  and  protection,  but  she  permitted  the 
French  codes  to  remain  generally  in  vigor,  exce])t  that 
she  abolished  divorce.  We  need  liardly  remark  that 
more  depends  upon  the  integrity  and  wisdom  of  judges 
than  upon  the  wording  of  codes. 

Li  Lombardy  and  Venetia,  Metternicli  soon  organized 
a  thoroughly  Austrian  administration.  Tlie  government 
of  the  two  ])rovin('es  was  so])arate,  that  of  Lombardy 
being  centred  at  Milan,  that  of  Venetia  at  Venice;  but 
over  all  was  placed  an  Austrian  arcliduke  as  Viceroy. 
Each  district  had  its  civil  and  military  tribunals,  but  the 
men  wlio  comjjoscd  these  being  ap])oiiitees  of  the  viceroy 
or  his  deputies,  tlieii-  subservience'  could  usuallv  be  reck- 
oned u])on.  Tile  trials  were  secret,  a  ])rovisi<)n  which, 
es))et'ially  in  ])()litical  cases.  ni;ide  convictions  easv.  The 
pillory,  flogging,  an<l  other  barbarous  punishments   were 


168  THE   DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

revived.  Feudal  privileges,  which  had  been  abolished 
by  the  French,  could  be  recovered  by  doing  homage  to 
the  Emperor  and  by  paying  specific  taxes.  In  some 
respects  there  was  an  improvement  in  the  general  admin- 
istration, but  in  others  the  deterioration  was  manifest. 
Lombardy  and  Venetia  had  to  bear  a  share  of  the  Aus- 
trian public  debt  proportioned  to  their  population;  thus 
they  were  taxed  not  only  for  the  support  of  their  internal 
government,  but  also  to  replenish  the  imperial  coffers  at 
Vienna.  They  were  crippled  by  tariff  laws  which  ex- 
cluded the  introduction  of  muslin,  cotton,  silks,  woolen, 
cutlery,  and  other  foreign  manufactures,  —  an  economical 
blunder  which  deprived  them  of  foreign  markets  for 
their  own  products,  and  which  encouraged  smuggling  to 
such  a  degree  that  insurance  companies  were  formed  to 
pay  smugglers  the  value  of  contraband  goods  if  these 
were  seized  by  the  police.^  The  method  of  collecting 
taxes  was  monstrous  and  costly;  and  the  means  of  trans- 
portation were  so  inadequate,  and  the  imposts  so  numer- 
ous, that  internal  trade  between  neighboring  districts 
could  not  thrive.  Shipbuilding  languished  at  Venice, 
where  several  large  vessels  which  were  on  the  stocks  at 
the  time  of  the  Austrian  restoration  were  sold  for  kin- 
dling wood.  The  government  also  endeavored  to  fix  prices 
by  publishing  each  week  a  list  of  rates  which  dealers  must 
abide  by;  but  the  economic  laws  of  supply  and  demand 
had  no  respect  for  autocratic  Metternich,  and  in  spite  of 
his  interference,  articles  fetched  what  they  were  worth. 
Fluctuations  in  the  local  currency  caused  further  uncer- 
tainty ;  when  the  government  wished  to  put  silver  coins 
in  circulation,  it  arbitrarily  depreciated  the  base-metal 
coins,  thereby  weighing  most  heavily  on  the  poorest  class ; 
but  it  required  that  taxes  and  the  public  debt  should  be 
paid  in  French  gold.^     On  the  other  hand,  primary  and 

1  Rose:   LeUersfrom  the  North  of  Italy  (London,  1819),  i,  224-5. 

2  Ibid,  i,  149. 


THE   RETURN   OF   THE    DESPOTS.  169 

secondary  education  was  encouraged  by  the  State,  which 
published  the  text-books  and  supplied  them  at  slight 
expense  to  the  scholars ;  but  these  books,  generally  trans- 
lated from  the  German,  were  carefully  edited  so  as  to 
inculcate  reverence  for  Austrian  principles,  and  a  political 
catechism  was  compiled  in  which  servile  submission  to 
tyranny  was  skilfully  set  foi-th  as  a  religious  duty.^  A 
remark  of  Emperor  Francis  to  the  professors  at  the  Uni- 
versity of  Pavia  revealed  his  real  disposition  towards 
education.  "I  want,"  said  he,  "not  learned  men,  but 
obedient  subjects.  "^ 

In  dealing  with  the  Church,  Metternich  insisted  upon 
the  independence  of  the  State.  Prelates  were  appointed 
by  the  Emperor  and  confirmed  by  the  Pope.  A  German 
archbishop  was  brought  to  Milan  and  another  to  Venice. 
Very  few  of  the  religious  orders  had  permission  to  re- 
open their  convents.  Civil  marriage  and  divorce  were 
abolished.  The  State  maintained  in  part  the  hospitals 
and  institutions  of  charity,  and  at  the  time  of  the  famine 
it  took  extraordinary  measures  to  relieve  the  sufferers. 
Upon  the  chief  highways,  upon  bridges  and  canals,  upon 
the  reclamation  of  swampy  districts,  and  upon  the  con- 
struction of  public  buildings  it  spent  considerable  sums.^ 
A  stranger  who  traveled  over  Lombardy  and  did  not 
look  V)elow  the  surface,  saw  many  indications  to  justify 
him  in  asserting  that  here  was  one  of  the  most  pros})erous 
and  best-governed  countries  in  Europe.  But  the  prosper- 
ity was  at  best  material,  due  to  the  bounties  of  nature, 
which  only  the  utter  nt!glect  of  man  could  render  fruit- 
less. The  chief  and  incurable  objection  to  tlie  Aus- 
trians  was  that  tliey  were  concjuerors  and  treated  their 
subjects  as  helots.  Thi;  Italian  must  obey  laws  imposed 
u])<)n  him  by  a  foreigner,   laws  wliicli  liad  been  framed 

'  P(>f,-{,H,  i,  220.  2  77„-,/^  i^  4s7. 

"  Ciiiith :    Cronistoria    ilella    IndijHtitlenza    lUilinna    (Turin,    1S7'>),   ii, 
chap.  ;J2. 


170  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

without  his  voice,  for  the  benefit  of  a  master  who  dwelt 
at  Vienna.  Were  a  law  good,  he  hated  it  because  it  was 
a  cog  in  the  great  wheel  of  tyranny ;  were  it  bad,  he  hated 
it  because  it  threatened  directly  his  property,  his  free- 
dom, or  his  life.  Napoleon's  rule  had  been  despotic,  but 
it  had  been  despotic  on  a  grand  scale ;  he  had  conquered 
by  force ;  he  had  opened  avenues  to  glory ;  he  had  awak- 
ened a  virile  spirit,  and  shed  round  him  large  and  stirring 
ideas :  but  these  Austrians  had  sneaked  into  their  suprem- 
acy; they  were  arrogant  and  conceited;  their  emperor 
was  bigoted,  petty,  and  unyielding;  a  man  who  depended 
upon  eavesdroppers  and  tricksters  for  his  information ;  a 
man  who  had  not  a  single  heroic  attribute,  nor  uttered, 
during  the  course  of  a  long  life,  a  single  thought  whereby 
mankind  was  made  stronger  or  wiser;  a  martinet,  only 
fitted  to  be  the  superintendent  of  a  small  reformatory 
school  for  juvenile  criminals.  So  to  the  Italians  the  con- 
trast between  the  recent  French  rule  and  the  present 
Austrian  was  typified  by  the  contrast  between  Napoleon 
and  Francis;  but  the  incompatibility  between  the  two 
peoples  had  the  deepest  source,  —  it  sprang  from  racial 
antipathy. 

Nevertheless,  Metternich  did  not  omit  provisions  for 
touching  the  vanity,  if  not  the  affection,  of  a  part  at  least 
of  Austria's  Italian  subjects.  The  vice-regal  court,  with 
its  levees,  its  routs,  its  elaborate  ceremonials,  was  a  field 
where  the  Lombard  aristocracy  could  display  itself,  for- 
getful of  higher  concerns.  Crosses  and  cordons  artfully 
distributed  among  the  nobles  were  also  helpful  in  win- 
ning the  allegiance  of  their  recipients.  It  was  assumed 
that  the  upper  classes  did  not  sympathize  with  the  svib- 
versive  schemes  of  the  revolutionists,  and  that  being  by 
instinct  conservative,  they  would  approve  of  any  govern- 
ment which  respected  their  privileges,  enforced  tranquil- 
lity, and  gave  them  scope  to  spend  their  time  and  money 
in  elegant  leisure  and  dissi])ation.     Nor  was  this  assump- 


THE   RETURN   OF  THE   DESPOTS,  171 

tion  ill-founded;  many  of  the  aristocrats  of  Lombardy 
and  Venetia  felt  no  shame  in  playing  the  courtier  to  the 
Austrian  viceroy  and  in  disguising  their  servitude  in  pom- 
pous robes.  Art,  science,  and  literature  were  patronized, 
and  they  throve  as  potted  plants  thrive  under  the  care  of 
a  gardener  who  cuts  off  every  new  shoot  at  a  certain 
height.  The  hope  of  scanty  pensions  let  loose  the  elo- 
quence of  flatterers  both  poetic  and  prosaic ;  Monti  out- 
cringing  them  all  in  his  ode  on  "The  Return  of  Astraea." 
Theatres  were  subsidized  and  the  galleries  of  paintings 
maintained.  In  brief,  the  semblance  of  gayety  was  there, 
but  at  heart  there  was  neither  joy  nor  content. 

We  may  liken  the  people  of  the  Austro-Italian  provinces 
to  those  Florentine  revelers  who,  at  the  time  of  the  plague, 
tried  to  tlrive  away  their  terror  by  telling  each  other  the 
merry  stories  reported  by  Boccaccio.  The  plague  which 
penetrated  every  corner  of  Lombardy  and  Yenetia  was 
the  Austrian  jxdice.  Stealthy,  but  sure,  its  luiseen  })res- 
ence  was  dreaded  in  palace  and  hovel,  in  church,  tribunal, 
and  closet.  It  was  visible  in  the  forms  of  countless  gen- 
darmes and  constables,  who  patrolled  the  streets  and 
watched  the  public  squares;  but  it  was  even  more  terri- 
l)le  through  the  work  of  its  secret  agents,  its  s])ies  and 
informers,  who  wore  no  badge  and  gave  no  sign  of  their 
duplicitous  occupation.  Ko  one  knew  whom  to  trust, 
nor  what  eavesdroi)})er  miglit  overliear  and  misiuterpret 
the  most  innocent  remark.  Every  police  -  offici'  was 
crammed  with  records  of  the  daily  habits  of  each  citizen, 
of  his  visitors,  liis  relatives,  liis  casual  eonvcrsations, 
—  even  his  style  of  dress  and  diet  wei-e  set  down.  Their 
screen  of  secrecy  allowed  s])ies  to  vent  their  malice  on  a 
])ersonal  enemy  by  registering  mere  snspicions  or  down- 
right calumnies;  and  the  accused,  having  no  chance  to 
confront  his  accusers,  was  ti-ebly  cnil)ai'i"issed  in  attempt- 
ing to  dear  himself.  Had  this  Mettcrnichian  army  of 
.sneaks  which,  for  iive-and-thirty  years,  jdied  tlicir  trade 


172  THE   DAWN   OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

in  every  town  and  hamlet,  been  put  to  some  useful  task, 
such  as  the  reclamation  of  the  malarious  districts,  they 
might  have  left  a  monument  of  permanent  benefit  behind 
them;  instead  of  the  heaps  of  folios,  duly  labeled  and 
catalogued,  and  filled  with  tittle-tattle  and  innuendoes. 
As  it  was,  notwithstanding  their  ubiquity  and  alertness, 
they  hardly  ever  discovered  information  of  great  impor- 
tance. The  post-office  was,  of  course,  a  recognized  chan- 
nel for  spies,  who  opened  letters  and  read,  and  then  for- 
warded or  kept  them  according  as  they  seemed  harmless 
or  suspicious.  The  press  being  gagged,  only  such  state- 
ments appeared  in  the  meagre  official  gazettes  as  were 
authorized  by  the  government.  And  when  not  an  iota 
of  evidence  could  be  found  against  some  person  whom  the 
police  wished  to  discredit,  reports  were  circulated  that 
he  was  a  spy.  Let  a  single  example  of  this  reptilian  pro- 
cess suffice.  The  Austrian  minister,  Sedlintzky,  gave 
orders  to  search  the  house  and  rummage  and  examine  the 
papers  of  Csesar  Cantu,  a  writer  of  wide  renown.  Tor- 
resani.  Director  of  Police,  replied  that  Cantii  was  much 
too  clever  to  let  papers  be  found  that  might  incriminate 
him;  all  the  more  because  he  was  used  to  domiciliary  vis- 
its, through  the  political  inquiries  he  had  previously  suf- 
fered; and  he  added,  "once  before  I  reverently  suggested 
that  the  best  way  to  ruin  Cantu  and  to  abate  his  unmeas- 
ured vanity  is  to  slander  him  as  a  bought  political  emis- 
sary, who  dogs  persons  in  the  dark  so  as  to  sell  them; 
and  thus  to  put  him  in  the  pillory.  To  attain  this  end, 
Torresani  sent  to  the  minister  a  notice  to  be  published  in 
the  Gazzetta  d'l  Augusta,  and  the  minister,  approving 
the  plan,  ordered  similar  articles  to  be  published  in  the 
Italian  journals  outside  of  the  Lombardo-Venetian  king- 
dom. And  if  I  mistake  not,  it  was  at  that  time  that  the 
Emperor  of  Austria  presented  to  Cantii  a  very  valuable 
ring,  as  if  in  reward  for  his  literary  works,  but  certainly 
with  the  intent  of  making  him  suspected  by  the  Italians, 


THE   RETURN   OF   THE   DESPOTS,  173 

it  being  the  nature,  not  only  of  tyrants  but  of  slaves,  to 
suspect  for  slight  causes."  ^ 

Such  was  the  Metternichian  system  of  police  and  es- 
pionage that  counteracted  every  mild  law  and  every 
attempt  to  lessen  the  repugnance  of  the  Italians.  They 
were  not  to  be  deceived  by  blandishments:  Lombardy 
was  a  prison,  Venetia  was  a  prison,  and  they  were  all 
captives,  although  they  seemed  to  move  about  unshackled 
to  their  work  or  pleasure.  But  to  them  the  consciousness 
of  being  watched  and  the  dread  of  being  betrayed  were 
omnipresent.  And  there,  too,  were  the  garrisons  of  white- 
coated  Austrian  troops  ready  to  shoot  down  any  mur- 
murers  whom  the  police  could  not  smother.  Under  Beau- 
harnais,  the  army  of  Northern  Italy  had  been  composed 
of  Italians,  many  of  wliom  won  honors  in  the  great  wars. 
But  Austria,  fearing  lest  the  military  spirit  should  be- 
come too  patriotic,  dissolved  the  native  regiments,  dis- 
missed the  Italian  officers,  and  sent  the  recruits  whom 
she  levied  in  Italy  to  waste  their  lives  in  barracks  beyond 
the  Alps.  Her  civil  and  judicial  offices  she  filled  with 
Germans,  many  of  whom  did  not  understand  the  language 
of  the  people  they  were  called  to  govern.  Slie  did.  in- 
deed, make  a  show  of  a])pointing  in  each  })rovince  a  Cen- 
tral Congregation,  composed  of  native  land-liolders,  but 
these  might  only  suggest  how  the  taxes  should  be  appor- 
tioned, and  they  were  so  careful  to  suggest  only  wliat 
their  masters  wislied,  that  their  congregations  were  nick- 
named "asylums  for  tlie  dumb."  Every  matter,  liowever 
trivial,  was  reported  to  the  Aulic  Council  at  Vienna, 
whose  deliberati(ms  were  as  slow  and  ponderous  as  the 
old-time  etiquett(>  of  tlie  S])anish  (\)urt.  Thus  when 
General  Uai>]>,  then  tlie  Minister  of  Police,  being  very  ill, 
sent  to  Vienna  for  ])('iniission  to  visit  some  neighboring 
baths,  the  rei)ly  canu;   two  months  after  his   death;'-  and 

'  I. a  Farina  :  Slurim!'  Italin  (Turin,  1>^")1),  ii.  2  I'.l-.'lt ;  ("antu:  ('ruiiislund, 
ii,  .I'.U. 

■'  Lady  M()r<,-an  :    Ihiii/  {Lnnd>>u.   I^L'l),  i.  l.")f,. 


174  THE   DAWN    OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

thus  when  the  fire-engines  at  Venice  fell  out  of  repair, 
the  governor  could  not  mend  them  without  authorization 
from  the  Aulic  Council,  and  in  the  interval  the  Cornaro 
Palace  was  burned  for  want  of  the  apparatus.^  The 
Viceroy,  Archduke  Rainier,  dismissed  every  petitioner 
with  the  words,  "I  will  tell  my  master,  the  Emperor." 
In  this  wise  were  nearly  five  millions  of  Lombards  and 
Venetians  reduced,  through  the  application  of  Metter- 
nich's  system,  to  the  condition  of  marionettes,  whose 
speech,  whose  gestures,  whose  actions  were  controlled  by 
those  who  pulled  the  strings  at  the  Austrian  capital. 

Petty  and  irritating  in  detail  and  deadening  in  mass 
as  was  the  Austrian  tyranny,  it  yet  seemed  somewhat  less 
reactionary  than  that  which  overwhelmed  Piedmont  ^  after 
the  restoration  of  her  legitimate  king.  But  there  was 
this  great  difference  in  the  situation  of  the  Lombardo- 
Venetians  and  of  the  Piedmontese:  the  former  were 
oppressed  by  a  foreigner  and  conqueror  who  could  never 
hojse  to  win  the  affection  of  his  subjects,  however  just 
and  enlightened  might  be  his  rule;  the  latter  were  op- 
pressed by  a  native  king,  descendant  of  an  illustrious  line 
which  had  for  more  than  two  centuries  been  associated 
with  the  welfare  and  expansion  of  Piedmont.  And,  there- 
fore, when  Victor  Emanuel  drove  into  Turin  in  the  gilt 
coach  borrowed  from  Marquis  d'  Azeglio,  May  24,  1814, 
and  a  paternal  smile  lighted  up  his  commonplace  fea- 
tures,, he  was  greeted  by  the  effusive  and  genuine  enthu- 
siasm of  his  people.  True,  they  thought  his  pigtail  and 
his  chapeau  of  the  time  of  Frederick  the  Great  a  little 
old-fashioned,  but  these  were  trifles  compared  with  the 
great  joy  of  welcoming  the   long-expected   sovereign  of 

1  Rose,  ii,  149. 

^  For  the  sake  of  uniformity,  I  shall  use  "  Piedmont  "  to  denote  the 
entire  kingdom  ruled  by  Victor  Emanuel  and  his  successors,  who  bore, 
however,  the  official  title,  "  King  of  Sardinia."  For  the  same  reason  I  use 
"  Austria"  and  "  Austrian,"  though  the  Italians,  remembering  their  me- 
diaeval history,  often  referred  to  them  as  "  Germany  "  and  "  Germans." 


THE   RETURN   OF  THE   DESPOTS.  175 

their  own  race.  Moreover,  he  came  to  them  for  the  first 
time  as  king,  as  he  had  succeeded  to  the  throne  in  1802 
on  the  abdication  of  his  brother,  Charles  Emanuel  IV, 
during  the  French  occupation  of  Piedmont.  He  had 
spent  his  exile  in  Sardinia,  holding  a  petty  but  punc- 
tilious court  at  Cagliari,  reviewing  his  few  battalions  of 
soldiers,  discussing  schemes  for  future  military  glory, 
and  imagining  himself  a  personage  of  vast  importance  to 
a  world  which  swept  on  forgetful  of  him.  "  I  and  Na])o- 
leon"  was  his  favorite  phrase,  and  to  hate  Napoleon  with 
unquenchable  hatred  was  his  strongest  passion.  He  was 
by  nature  neither  cruel  nor  unreasonable,  but  his  early 
education  had  been  narrow  and  his  exile  had  embittered 
him.  Believing  absolutely  in  the  divine  institution  of 
kingship,  he  held  that  as  king  he  was  responsible  for  the 
welfare  of  his  subjects,  and  that  connnands  emanating 
from  himself,  the  divinely  -  ordained,  ought  to  be  reli- 
giously obeyed.  His  attitude  towards  his  sul)jects,  there- 
fore, was  that  of  a  Piu"itan  father  towards  his  children ; 
it  was  admitted  that  he  loved  them,  but  he  expressed  his 
love  by  constant  and  unflinching  chastisement. 

I  lis  subjects  were  disposed  at  first  to  smile  at  the  ludi- 
crousness  of  some  of  his  measures.  He  removed  at  once 
all  tlie  officials  and  employees  of  French  appointment, 
and  ordered  that  they  should  be  replaced  by  those  whose 
names  were  registered  in  the  Pahmivcrde  (or  Court  Al- 
manac) for  1798.  Alas,  many  had  died  in  the  inter- 
vening sixteen  years!  He  called  out  the  soldiers  and 
subalterns  of  1800;  among  them,  too,  death  had  made 
many  gaps !  Dismissing  tlie  hij^ilier  officers,  wlio  liad 
earned  their  rank  in  the  Napoleonic  wars,  he  substituted 
for  them  the  agtnl  aristocrats  who  had  been  loyal  to  liiiu 
during  the  inactive  years  at  Cagliari,  or  their  callow  sons, 
wlio  knew  no  mon;  about  tactics  and  discipline  than  wliat 
they  had  read  in  their  old-fashioned  history  books.  For 
his  courtiers,  he  prescribed  a  costume  in  the  style  of  his 


176  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

youth,  and  though  the  Piedmontese  nobles  felt  guyed  in 
those  old  perukes,  they  were  loyal  and  wore  their  annoy- 
ances gravely. 

But  the  tragic  was  mingled  with  the  comic  in  the 
King's  "reforms."  Of  a  very  pious  nature,  he  gave  the 
Jesuits  so  cordial  a  welcome  that  they  had  erelong  con- 
trol of  the  schools  and  a  preponderating  influence  in  other 
temporal  affairs.  The  French  code  was  swept  away  and 
the  musty  Constitution  of  1770  resuscitated.  The  law 
of  primogeniture  reappeared.  Civil  marriage  and  di- 
vorce were  prohibited;  it  was  even  proposed  to  declare 
bastards  all  the  children  whose  parents  had  been  married 
by  the  mayor  and  not  by  the  priest.  Religious  toleration 
was  denied,  and  thus  the  steadfast  Waldenses  and  other 
non-Catholics  were  in  danger  of  persecution.  Confusion 
prevailed  in  the  judiciary;  there  were  ecclesiastical  courts, 
military  courts,  and  courts  of  royal  domain.  Contracts 
and  titles  in  property  were  thrown  into  chaos  through 
ordinances  which  annulled  transactions  and  leases  made 
during  the  French  occupation.  The  law  of  banality,  one 
of  the  most  oppressive  products  of  feudalism,  was  re- 
vived for  the  advantage  of  the  nobility.  Benefices  were 
again  held  in  commendam.  The  French  had  purged  the 
cloisters  and  convents  and  turned  them  to  better  uses; 
now  the  swarms  of  friars  and  nuns  flew  back.  The  King, 
resolved  that  outward  forms  of  religion  should  be  rigidly 
observed,  established  a  kitchen  inquisition  to  find  out 
which  of  his  subjects  ate  meat  of  a  Friday.  He  granted 
monopolies  and  exemptions  to  private  individuals ;  he  set 
aside  verdicts,  already  delivered  in  the  courts.  Prison- 
ers might  be  tortured,  and  capital  punishment  was  at- 
tended with  shocking  cruelty.  The  Jews  once  more  fell 
under  the  ban  of  Christian  injustice.  In  such  a  system 
individual  liberty  had  of  course  no  part.  "The  governor, 
the  commandant,  the  director  of  the  police,  the  fiscal 
advocate,  the  justice  of  the  peace,  the  mayor,  the  carabi- 


THE   RETURN    OF   THE   DESPOTS.  177 

neers,  down  to  the  lowest  agent  or  sj^y  of  the  poliee,  each 
had  the  right  to  arrest.  But  if  it  was  easy  to  get  into 
prison,  it  was  terribly  difficult  to  get  out  again.  A  pris- 
oner might  be  set  at  liberty  to-day  by  order  of  the  magis- 
trate, and  to-morrow  an  order  from  the  governor,  the 
director  of  police,  the  commandant,  would  send  him  back 
to  confinement."  ^  The  provincial  and  communal  councils 
had  very  limited  jurisdiction,  —  often  their  power  was 
merely  nominal,  —  being  checked  and  dominated  by  the 
ubiquitous  police. 

Foi-tvmately  the  generally  honest  character  of  the  peo- 
ple kept  them  in  many  cases  from  resorting  to  the  unjust 
means  which  this  monstrous  system  held  out  to  them. 
The  King  himself  was  inclined  to  be  fair  according  to  his 
lights,  but  his  good  intentions  were  often  thwarted  by  the 
influence  of  his  Austrian  wife,  Maria  Theresa,  by  his 
confessor,  Botta,  and  by  his  reactionary  ministers.  He 
was  generous  to  all  who  had  been  loyal,  but  implacable 
towards  those  who  had  acknowledged  Napoleon's  usurpa- 
tion. So  intense  was  his  aversion  for  all  things  French, 
which  to  him  meant  Jacobin  and  revolutionary,  that  he 
dismissed  clerks  who  wrote  the  letter  li  in  the  French 
instead  of  in  tlie  Picdmontese  fashion.  Hemmed  in  by 
counselors  as  sincerely  retrograde  as  himself,  he  could 
not  hear  the  protests  of  those  of  his  sul)je('ts  who  believed 
that  the  paternal  government  of  the  seventeenth  century 
was  an  abomination  in  the  nineteenth.  A  king's  court 
is,  after  all,  only  an  eehoing-gallery,  which  always  gives 
back  his  own  words,  and  the  court  of  Victor  Kmanuel 
was  beyond  any  other  in  Italy  ]>i"iin,  ])unctilious,  and  obe- 
dient. In  it  "no  one  wlio  loved  his  king  and  his  God 
spoke  otherwise  than  thi-ough  his  nose,  the  nasal  twang 
being,  we  know  not  on  what  ground,  taken  as  an  evidence 
of  loyal  zeal  and  religious  unction.*  - 

>    Kunini:    Lorrnz;  Urnnni  (\.'w  V..rk.  Is:,.!),  1M7. 

-  fiallfiiira  :  llislori/  <,/'  I'uihiu.ut  (London.  IS."):)),  iii.  WV,  ;  st't"  also 
P<Vf;i.  i.  I'.ts--_'1S;  Tuiotti.  i.:;sT-lll>;  M.  D"  Azc^lio  :  /  Mui  Rimrdi.  i, 
chap.  '.•. 


178  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

Thus  did  the  Old  Regime  reintrench  itself  in  Italy. 
Everywhere  the  government  was  Absolutist  and  paternal, 
differing  in  its  rigor  according  to  the  personal  character 
of  the  local  despot,  but  everywhere  based  on  the  same 
theories  and  traditions.  The  restored  monarchs  kept 
what  was  least  admirable  in  Napoleon's  system,  the  ten- 
dency to  centralization,  and  they  revived  what  was  most 
pernicious  in  the  old  system,  craft,  deceit,  neglect  of  ed- 
ucation, and  encouragement  of  superstition.  Jesuits  and 
the  police  were  their  chief  agents.  Having  declared  war 
against  opinions,  their  entire  energy  was  directed  to  the 
suppression  and  punishment  of  political  heretics,  and  the 
Church  stultified  herself  by  construing  as  religious  here- 
sies those  political  opinions  to  which  she  was  hostile. 
In  this  arbitrary  and  factitious  scheme,  true  morality 
and  common  decency  were  neglected.  Obscene  vices  and 
violent  crimes  went  unpunished :  a  man  might  do  murder, 
but  not  eat  flesh  on  Friday;  the  common  highwayman, 
guilty  of  countless  robberies  and  a  score  of  assassinations, 
was  pensioned  by  his  king,  while  the  patriotic  citizen, 
who  asserted  that  representative  government  was  prefera- 
ble to  despotism,  was  sent  to  the  galleys  or  the  scaffold. 
Truly  it  was  well  said  of  the  Bourbons  and  their  fellows 
who  came  back  to  power  in  1814,  that  they  had  learnt 
nothing  and  forgotten  nothing.  After  a  quarter  of  a 
century  of  the  most  terrific  political  convulsion  in  history, 
they  returned  to  their  old  ways,  and  would  fain  believe 
that  that  convulsion  had  been  but  a  bad  dream.  That 
wicked  and  stiff-necked  people,  who,  in  the  ancient  lie- 
brew  myth,  laughed  at  Noah  building  the  ark,  were  not 
less  blind  than  these  princes  of  the  Old  Regime  who  disre- 
garded all  warnings  of  their  own  destruction.  But  the 
day  of  their  calamity  was  still  far  off,  and  the  conflict 
between  the  Old  and  the  New  seemed  still  but  a  qiiarrel 
between  a  host  of  policemen  and  a  few  noisy  peace- 
breakers. 


CHAPTER  III. 

FOREIGN   INTRIGUES. 

Thus  the  old  rulers  flew  back  into  their  last  year's 
nests.  Each  princeling  would  have  it  appear  that  he  was 
indebted  solely  to  the  "principle  of  legitimacy,"  but  in 
reality  he  was  the  creature  of  the  Congress  of  Vienna. 
In  order  that  none  might  be  strong  enough  to  menace  his 
neighbors,  each  had  received  but  a  small  domain.  Sec- 
tionalism among  the  people  was  thus  provided  for,  and 
it  was  hoped  that  the  recollection  of  common  calamities 
in  the  past  and  of  common  dangers  in  the  present  would 
draw  the  rulers  together.  Mutual  jealousy  would  pre- 
vent them  from  combining  to  rid  the  Peninsula  of  its 
foreign  master. 

Mettei'nich,  disregarding,  when  he  chose,  his  sacred 
"principle  of  legitimacy,"  had  annexed  Lombardy  and 
Venetia  to  Austria.  lie  woidd  have  taken  more,  had  not 
Russia,  Prussia,  France,  and  England  been  envious. 
But  what  he  dared  not  to  seize  ojjcnly,  he  ])lottcd  to 
secure  by  intrigue.  lie  attempted  to  Austrianize  Italy, 
and,  in  so  far  as  lie  was  successful,  he  delayed  Italy's 
emancipation  for  fifty  years.  His  })osition  along  tlie 
north  bank  of  the  Po,  and  his  garrisons  at  Ferrara  and 
Comaccliio  already  gave  him  a  formidable  advantage. 
The  rulers  of  Parma,  Modena,  and  Tuscany  belonged  to 
the  House  of  Hapsl)urg,  t\w  other  sovereigns  had  floated 
back  on  the:  tide  of  reaction  which  Austria,  mooidike, 
directed.  Kinship,  therefor»s  or  gi-alitudc,  or  inteicst 
were  the  strings  he  could  pull ;  these  failing,  he  had  brute 
force. 


180  THE   DAWN    OF   ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

His  first  negotiations  were  with  the  King  of  Naples. 
Ferdinand  had  entered  his  capital  under  the  escort  of 
Austrian  troops,  and  he  knew  better  than  any  one  else 
how  the  nine  million  francs,  which  his  agents  had  slipped 
into  the  hands  of  the  lobbyists  at  Vienna,  had  helped  to 
persuade  Austria  to  insist  upon  his  restoration.  Very 
readily,  therefore,  he  complied  with  Metternich's  request 
to  form  a  secret  alliance.  He  promised  not  to  introduce 
into  the  Kingdom  of  the  Two  Sicilies  any  changes  which 
might  conflict  either  with  the  ancient  monarchical  institu- 
tions of  his  realm,  or  with  the  measures  adopted  by  Aus- 
tria in  her  Italian  possessions.  He  bound  himself,  in  case 
Austria  were  attacked,  to  furnish  25,000  troops,  and  in 
return  he  was  to  count  upon  80,000  Austrians.  Without 
the  consent  of  the  Emperor,  he  could  make  neither  peace 
nor  war,  and  he  pledged  himself  to  support  the  Austrian 
army  of  occupation  until  it  should  be  withdrawn. ^  Four 
years  later,  he  asked  that  the  contingent  to  be  equipped 
by  him  might  be  reduced  from  25,000  to  12,000  men,  and 
Metternich  consented ;  for,  the  smaller  the  standing  army 
in  Naples,  the  greater  the  dependence  of  Ferdinand  on 
Austria. 

In  the  reorganization  of  Sicily,  Metternich  tightened 
his  grip  on  Ferdinand.  That  island  had  had  a  most 
strange  and  interesting  history.  From  time  immemorial 
it  had  been  the  battlefield  of  races.  There  Phoenicians 
had  planted  settlements,  and  there  Greeks  had  colonized. 
Under  the  brow  of  ^tna,  Dorians  and  lonians  fought, 
and  the  power  of  Athens  —  and  with  the  power,  the 
splendor  and  the  beauty — was  irremediably  stricken. 
In  Sicily,  already  the  cornfield  of  the  Mediterranean,  Ro- 
mans and  Carthaginians  began  that  duel  for  the  control 
of  the  Midland  Sea  that  culminated  at  Cannae  and  Zama 
and  closed  with  the  destruction  of  Carthage  itself.     In 

^  N.  Bianehi :    Storia  Documentnta  della  Diplomazia  Europea  in  Italia, 
181-lr-61  (Turin,  1865),  i,  207-8. 


FOREIGN    INTRIGUES.  181 

the  groves  above  Syracuse,  Theocritus  sang  the  last  songs 
of  the  Hellenic  genius,  some  plaintive,  all  sweet,  like  the 
warblings  of  the  thrush  at  twilight.  The  roses  of  Gir- 
genti,  the  orange- orchards  of  Messina,  flowered  perenni- 
ally, but  the  owners  of  Sicily  changed  with  each  historic 
season.  Roman  governor  reluctantly  gave  way  to  Gothic 
count,  and  he  in  turn  to  Byzantine  prietor.  Then  came 
the  Saracens  out  of  the  hot  Orient,  to  make  the  garden 
of  Trinacria  theirs,  and  to  keep  it,  until  out  of  the  misty 
north  descended  the  Normans,  and  subdued  the  Sara- 
cens, and  set  up  a  kingdom  more  prosperous  and  more 
enlightened  than  that  other  island  kingdom  they  liad  just 
wrested  from  the  Saxons.  In  Norman  Sicily  there  was 
religious  toleration  for  the  first  time  in  Christendom. 
Greek  and  Latin  Christian,  Mahometan  and  Jew,  wor- 
shiped God,  each  after  his  conviction.  Then  the  Sicil- 
ian sceptre,  as  restless  as  Fortune's  wdieel,  passed  to  the 
Germans,  and  under  Frederick  of  llohenstaufen,  the  first 
monarch  of  modern  pattern,  Sicily  was  still  the  best-gov- 
erned land  in  Europe.  And  just  as  the  latest  strains  of 
Greek  poetry  had  been  uttered  there,  so  there  the  earliest 
strains  of  Italian  poetry  were  uttered.  But  d\Tiasties 
pursued  each  other  like  gliosts  through  the  lialls  of  the 
royal  pahuic  of  Palermo.  The  House;  of  llohenstaufen 
vanished  before  that  of  Anjou,  and  after  tlie  Frenchman 
came  the  Spaniard.  Like  some  precious  Hindoo  jewel, 
Sicily,  mu(;h  coveted,  did  Jiot  remain  long  in  any  family, 
but  brought  misfortune  on  all;  till  at  last  slie  dropped 
from  the  hands  of  Aragon  into  the  hands  of  Bourbon. 
Nevertheless,  amid  these  vicissitudfs,  slie  clicrished  the 
traditions  of  her  mediieval  indopciidcncc  and  forwanbicss, 
and  from  tlic  beginning  of  the  fourtcciitli  century  slic  liad 
curlx'd  the  despotism  of  liei-  kings  by  a  sort  of  parliamen- 
tary government,  wliieh  neither  the  feu(hil  innovation  of 
the  Spaniard,  nor  the  antocratie  encroachments  and  the 
perfidy  of  the  liourbons  had    lieen  able  w]i(»llv  to  destroy. 


182  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

During  the  Napoleonic  trouble  Ferdinand  had  taken 
refuge  in  Sicily,  where,  thanks  to  English  protection,  he 
had  weathered  the  storm.  But  his  administration  was  so 
bad  that  the  English  agent.  Lord  Bentinck,  threatened 
to  withdraw  his  support  unless  the  King  should  desist 
from  his  corrupt  policy  and  the  Queen  from  her  interfer- 
ence. Ferdinand  acquiesced,  and  Bentinck,  in  1812, 
proclaimed  a  constitution  which  restored  to  the  Sicilians 
many  of  their  ancient  privileges.  As  soon,  however,  as 
the  fall  of  Murat  and  the  consent  of  the  Congress  of 
Vienna  opened  the  way  for  Ferdinand's  return  to  the 
mainland,  he  found  himself  in  an  embarrassing  plight. 
In  Naples  he  ruled,  despite  his  Liberal  promises,  as  an 
absolute  monarch;  in  Sicily  he  was  hampered  by  a  con- 
stitution which  he  had  already  violated  so  far  as  to  stir 
up  the  wrath  of  the  Sicilians.  The  rivalry  between 
them  and  the  Neapolitans  was  further  intensified  by  the 
King's  blunders  and  insincerity.  The  Sicilians,  boasting 
of  their  loyalty  whilst  the  Neapolitans  were  submissive 
to  Murat,  sulked  when  officials  were  dispatched  from 
Naples  to  govern  them :  the  Neapolitans  grumbled  to  see 
their  civil  and  military  offices  filled  by  courtiers  whom 
Ferdinand  had  brought  with  him  from  Palermo.  The 
King  levied  what  taxes  he  chose  in  Naples ;  in  Sicily  he 
had  to  accept  what  taxes  the  Parliament  voted  to  him. 
Evidently  he  must  be  annoyed  as  long  as  different  sys- 
tems existed  side  by  side  in  the  two  halves  of  his  king- 
dom, so  he  resolved  to  bring  both  under  the  same  regime. 
But  should  he  level  Naples  up  to  Sicily,  or  level  Sicily 
down  to  Naples?  He  leveled  down,  depriving  the  Sicil- 
ians of  their  poor  shred  of  a  constitution,  and  he  sealed 
this  act  of  uniformity  by  assuming  the  title  of  King  of 
the  Two  Sicilies,  December  12,  1816.^ 

Metternich  connived  at  this  reactionary  change,  which 

^  Hitherto  his  title  was  Ferdinaufl  IV  of  Naples,  and  III  of  Sicily  ; 
henceforth,  it  was  Ferdinand  I  of  *^he  Two  Sicilies. 


FOREIGN    INTRIGUES.  183 

erased  the  word  "Constitution"  from  Italian  jwlitics. 
"It  suited  our  interest,"  he  wrote,  "to  enter  into  the 
designs  of  the  Neapolitan  Court,  and  thus  prevent  Sicily 
from  serving  as  an  examjile  to  tlie  Kingdom  of  Naples 
subsequently,  and  also  to  prevent  the  numerous  consti- 
tutionalists of  this  kingdom  (supported  by  this  example), 
from  seeking  to  induce  the  ministry  to  give  them  also  a 
representative  government."^  And  he  persuaded  Eng- 
land—  the  sponsor  of  the  Constitution  of  1812,  and  the 
supposed  exemplar  of  the  blessings  of  a  nation  governed 
by  a  parliament  —  to  consent  to  the  strangling  of  her 
god-child.  When  Marquis  Grimaldi,  secretary  to  the 
Piedmontese  embassy  at  London,  remarked  to  Lord  Mel- 
ville that  England  allowed  her  daughters  to  die  at  nurse, 
the  latter  smiled  and  replied  that  it  was  not  certain  that 
a  wholly  English  constitution  would  suit  Sicily.  Two 
days  later  Grimaldi,  who  had  some  irony,  said  to  another 
Tory  minister,  "It  seems  to  me  that  the  constitutions  of 
English  manufacture  which  you  ship  abroad  are  of  very 
light  texture."  To  which  Hamilton  answered,  "It  was 
needed  in  Sicily  when  we  planted  it  there :  if  they  have 
now  altered  the  cut,  I  believe  it  will  ada})t  itself  better  to 
the  different  parts  of  tlie  kingdom.  Wlien  such  goods 
are  needed,  it  is  better  to  make  thom  at  home  than  to 
import  them  from  abroad."'^  The  "principle  of  legiti- 
macy "  exacted  the  lopping  off  of  all  the  offshoots  of 
the  Revolution,  and  Bentinck's  Constitution  was  one  of 
th(!se;  but  the  parliamentary  rights  wliich  the  Sicilians 
demanded  had  been  acknowledged  long  before  the  Kcvo- 
lution,  in  that  age  which  legitimists  fondly  extolled  as 
golden. 

Having  thus  bound  Xapl<»s,  Metternich  passed  on  to 
Tuscany.  Tlie  (irand  Ouke,  l'\>rdiiiand  111,  was  tlic  Em- 
])eror's  brother,  and  he  had  been  induced,  at  tlic  close  of 
the  Congress  of   Vit'una,  to  sign  a  treaty  of  alliance  with 

'    MetUTiiich,  iii,  lU.  -    r.i:inilii,  i.  •_' I  (-.">. 


184  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

Austria;  the  terras  being  that  Ferdinand  should  furnish 
6,000  troops  in  case  Austria  were  attacked;  that  he 
should  not  conclude  peace  without  her  consent ;  and  that 
he  should  communicate  to  Austria  any  information  which 
might  affect  the  tranquillity  of  Austria's  Italian  prov- 
inces. For  economy's  sake,  Tuscany 's  relations  with 
foreign  Powers  were  chiefly  conducted  through  Austria's 
diplomatic  agents.  Notwithstanding  this  apparent  sub- 
mission, the  Grand  Duke  strove  to  be  master  at  home, 
where  the  influence  of  the  reform  laws  of  Peter  Leopold 
was  still  showing  itself  in  the  more  peaceable  disposition 
of  the  Tuscans.  It  was  Ferdinand's  rule  to  plead  the 
littleness  of  Tuscany  as  an  excuse  for  not  meddling 
abroad,  and  when  Metternich,  not  satisfied  with  the 
formal  alliance,  urged  that  Tuscany  take  the  initiative 
in  making  a  league  of  Italian  States  to  be  consigned  to 
Austrian  protection,  she  replied  that,  while  she  was 
touched  by  the  honor,  her  modesty  forbade  her  presvun- 
ing  to  move  before  her  big  neighbors:  let  him  consult 
them  first,  and  then  come  to  her.  Again,  when  he  in- 
vited her  to  intrust  her  postal  service  to  Austria's  super- 
intendence, —  a  proposition  too  transparent  to  deceive 
anybody  who  knew  Metternich' s  habit  of  lifting  seals 
and  reading  letters  not  addressed  to  himself,  —  she  de- 
clined; and  she  again  asserted  her  dignity  when  Austrian 
regiments,  on  their  way  home  from  Naples,  wished  to 
cross  her  territory.  It  was  doubtless  this  refusal  to 
surrender  wholly  her  independent  action  that  led  ]Met- 
ternich  to  speak  somewhat  gloomily  of  her  "  sadly  altered 
feeling,"  of  the  weakness  of  her  ministry  and  of  tlie  dis- 
content of  all  classes  of  her  people,  and  to  regret,  like  the 
philanthropist  he  was,  "that  a  land  so  highly  favored  by 
nature  should  have  lost  even  the  hope  of  a  happier  exist- 
ence."! 

In  Parma  he  met  with  no  resistance.      Maria  Louisa 

1  Metternich,  iii,  1)4. 


FOREIGN    INTRIGUES.  185 

preferred  the  title  of  Austrian  archduchess  to  that  of 
Napoleon's  emj)ress,  and  she  willingly  allowed  her  polity 
to  be  directed  from  Vienna,  so  long  as  she  was  allowed  to 
direct  the  punctilio  of  her  little  court.  In  Modena,  the 
Duke  treated  Austria  as  a  spoiled  child  treats  a  forbearing 
nurse ;  sure  of  her  protection  when  he  needed  it,  he  had 
his  o^vn  wilful  way  in  his  daily  affairs.  It  was  said  that 
he  organized  a  gang  of  smugglers  to  introduce  contraband 
goods  into  the  Austrian  provinces  by  night;  it  is  certain 
that  his  subservience  to  the  Vatican,  and  his  selfishness, 
displeased  the  Austrian  chancellor,  to  whom  he  seemed 
to  behave  more  like  a  })rudent  land-owner  than  like  a 
sovereign.  But  Metternich  shrewdly  refrained  from 
saying  downright,  "I  forbid;  "  he  knew  Francis's  bull-dog 
nature;  he  knew,  too,  that  he  coidd  be  whipped  into 
obedience  if  he  became  too  unridy. 

At  Rome  Metternich  encountered  greater  opposition. 
Cardiiud  Consalvi,  the  Secretary  of  State,  had  studied 
the  Metternichian  wiles  at  the  Congress,  and  was  himself 
passing  clever  in  intrigue.  Pope  Pius  was  of  a  kindly 
disposition  but  obstinate  in  certain  matters,  and  his  ob- 
stinacy was  none  the  less  effective  from  being  expressed 
with  a  mildness  more  characteristic  of  compliance  than  of 
refusal.  lie  had  not  forgiven  the  Austrians  for  garrison- 
ing Ferrara;  he  suspected  their  designs  on  the  Legations; 
he  had  evidence  that  Metternich's  agents  were  coquetting 
with  the  Carl)onai'i.  Mcttei-nich  early  saw  the  value  of 
this  last  ruse  and  often  resorted  to  it.  By  instructing  his 
minions  to  insinuate  themselves  into  the  secret  societies, 
he  could  not  only  discover  tlie  sclienu's  of  the  would-be 
revolutionists,  but  also  frighten  rulers  into  accepting  his 
dictation.  Sometimes  he  ])retended  to  have  warning  of 
an  impending  outbreak ;  soiuetinu's  he  ])rov(tked  a  little 
riot,  and  bv  (luelliug  it  inmifdiatcly  lie  awed  i-ioteis  and 
])rinces  alike.  Iiutthe  Pope  was  too  old  a  tly  to  be  eaught 
in  that  web.      lie  declined  t(»  Icat-uc  himself  with  Austria 


186  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

because,  he  said,  his  duty  as  Christ's  Vicar  restricted 
him  to  a  peaceful  policy,  and  forbade  him,  the  Father  of 
the  Catholic  Church,  from  preferring  one  son  before 
the  others.  Metier nich  protested  that  the  story  of  his 
dealings  with  the  Carbonari  was  a  lie  invented  by  them 
to  injure  him  in  the  eyes  of  the  Holy  Father:  in  vain, 
even  he  could  not  bind  the  protean  politicians  of  the 
Vatican,  who,  like  the  Homeric  heroes,  when  hard  pressed 
in  their  fight  for  temporal  advantage,  suddenly  became 
invisible  and  invulnera))le  in  a  spiritual  mist.  Those 
petticoated  old  men  wrangled  manfully  until  the  moment 
when  a  foe  made  as  if  to  strike  them ;  then  they  pointed 
to  their  feminine  garb  and  exclaimed  tauntingly,  ""  What ! 
you,  a  man,  would  strike  defenseless  women!"  Metter- 
nich,  who  had  more  at  stake  than  a  coveted  strip  of  papal 
territory,  who  knew  that  those  epicene  old  creatures  could 
foment  trouble  in  every  diocese  and  parish  ruled  over  by 
Emperor  Francis,  wisely  refrained  his  hand.  But  while 
he  failed  to  get  an  open  avowal  of  his  mastery,  he  could 
content  himself  by  reflecting  that  his  influence  was  greater 
at  Eome  than  the  Pope  admitted,  and  that  at  the  first 
alarm  the  petticoated  schemers  of  the  Vatican  would  send 
post-haste  for  his  help. 

In  Piedmont,  however,  his  artifices  ended  neither  in 
victory  nor  drawn  battle,  but  in  defeat.  The  little  King- 
dom of  Piedmont  lay  in  the  bended  elbow  of  the  Alps; 
beyond  them,  on  the  west,  was  France,  on  the  north, 
Switzerland;  eastward  the  Tieino  River  separated  from 
Lombardy,  now  Austrian;  on  the  south,  murmured  the 
tideless  waters  of  the  Midland  Sea.  The  Piedmontese 
were  in  character  the  most  independent  and  robust  of  the 
Italians.  Less  than  any  of  their  brothers  had  they  been 
inspired  by  the  Renaissance,  or  enervated  by  its  decay. 
In  religion  they  were  bigoted  Catholics,  as  strict  and 
intolerant  and  sincere  as  John  Knox's  Scotchmen  or 
John  Calvin's  Genevans.      They  had  been  ruled  by  a  line 


FOREIGN    INTRIGUES.  187 

of  remarkable  princes,  who  believed  literally  in  the  divine 
right  of  kings,  and  who  made  soldiers  of  all  those  sub- 
jects who  had  not  been  made  priests  or  monks.  Thus 
little  Piedmont  was,  among  the  emasculate  States  of 
Italy,  what  little  Brandenburg  was  among  the  German 
States,  —  a  drilling-field  and  barracks.  During  the 
eighteenth  century  it  lay  "between  the  hammer  and  the 
anvil,"  France  threatening  on  the  west,  Austria  threat- 
ening on  the  east.  In  1814,  when  he  recovered  his 
throne,  Victor  Emanuel  set  about  reorganizing  his  army 
and  administration  according  to  the  traditional  policy  of 
his  family.  He  was  autocratic  and  exacting;  but  he  was 
honest,  and  he  haughtily  resented  foreign  interference. 
Metternich  saw  that  Piedmont,  which  the  brief  domina- 
tion of  the  Frencli  had  not  debased,  might  become  an 
eyrie  whence  patriotic  Italians  could  ])ounce  down  upon 
and  harry  his  slave-drivers  in  Lombardy.  An  indepen- 
dent Italian  State,  nded  by  a  native  Italian  prince,  was 
a  dangerous  neiglibor.  His  first  endeavor,  therefore, 
was  to  catch  Victor  Emanuel  in  an  offensive-defensive 
alliance.  Failing  in  this,  he  schemed  to  cripple  Pied- 
mont l)y  acquiring  the  Upper  Novarese  district,  which 
connnanded  tlie  highway  into  Switzerland  over  the  Siiii- 
])l()n  Pass,  lie  pictured  the  ease  with  which  tlic  Frencli 
could  invade  Italy  by  that  route,  and  urged  tliat,  since 
Picnlmont  was  already  burdened  witli  the  defense  of  the 
Mt.  Cenis  and  the  St.  Bernard,  Austria  be  allowed  to 
guard  th(!  other  approach.  V^ictor  Emanuel  re]>lied  that 
he  owed  nothing  to  anybody,  tliat  he  was  fully  able  to 
defend  himself,  and  that  he  would  not  cede  an  inch  of  his 
soil.  Metternich,  foiled  in  front,  next  mad(;  a  fiaidc 
attack,  and  througli  his  olx'dicnt  tool,  Castlereagh,  he 
caused  England  to  apjjear  as  the  fautor  of  his  j)l;ms.  The 
English  minister  argued  that  as  Austria  liad  assumed 
res))onsil)ility  for  peace  in  Italy.  -  on  which  peace  th'- 
pended  the  Kui'opean  e(iuilil)riuni.  -  -  it  was  only  just  that 


188  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

she  should  hold  the  positions  which  she  deemed  necessary 
for  fulfilling  her  task.  But  the  King  of  Prussia  advised 
Victor  Emanuel  to  stand  firm,  and  the  Czar  informed  the 
Austrian  chancellor  that  he  deceived  himself  if  he  tliouglit 
Russia  would  acquiesce  in  despoiling  Piedmont  of  the 
Upper  Novarese.^ 

Kenewing  the  attack  on  the  other  flank,  Metternich 
again  proposed  the  league;  upon  which  Victor  Emanuel 
wrote  Emperor  Francis  that  "inasmuch  as  my  ancestors 
and  myself  have  negotiated  as  equals  with  equals,  whetlier 
with  France  or  Austria,  I  cannot  surrender  this  equality 
and  cease  to  be  an  independent  sovereign,  in  a  confedera- 
tion in  which  you  would  be  such."^  xVgain  Castlereagh 
urged  Piedmont  to  comply,  adding  as  an  inducement, 
that  if  she  did  comply,  Austria  would  doubtless  drop  the 
question  of  ceding  the  Upper  Novarese  and  would  with- 
draw her  troops  from  Alessandria.  The  Emperor,  in  an 
autograph  letter  to  the  King,  hinted  at  these  very  favors, 
and  covered  his  hook  with  tempting  bait :  his  own  posi- 
tion in  the  league,  he  said,  would  not  be  that  of  Aus- 
trian Emperor,  but  simply  that  of  the  Sovereign  of  Lom- 
bardy  and  Venice;  hence  there  could  be  no  inequality 
between  himself  and  the  sovereigns  of  the  other  Italian 
States.  But  Victor  Emanuel  would  not  nibble  at  this 
bait;  and  again  the  Czar  encouraged  him. 

So  Metternich  was  compelled  for  the  present  to  desist 
from  his  scheme.  Unable  to  coax  or  coerce  Piedmont, 
he  vented  his  spite  in  teasing  and  petty  persecutions. 
The  Austrian  garrison  which  had  lingered  without  excuse 
for  more  than  a  year  in  Alessandria  was  withdrawn,  but  it 
destroyed  the  outer  fortifications  before  going.  Not  long 
after  these  events  Victor  Emanuel  wrote  to  his  brother 
Charles  Felix :  "  Austria,  left  to  lier  own  resources,  is 
not  stronger  in  Italy  than  we  are.  I  made  this  caleida- 
tion  some  months  ago  when  they  were  unwilling  to  restore 
1  Bianchi,  i,  22G.  -  Ibid,  227. 


FOREIGN    INTRIGUES.  189 

Alessandria,  and  were  asking  for  the  Upper  Novarese, 
and  I  made  it  in  the  presence  of  Stackelberg,  Bubna, 
Bianchi,  and  other  Austrian  generals,  showing  that  the 
Emperor  could  not  employ  more  than  120,000  soldiers 
against  us,  whereas  I  can  dispose  of  100,000  soldiers  in 
an  offensive  war  against  him,  and  in  a  defensive  I  can 
very  far  surpass  him,  having  80,000  men  in  the  organized 
militia,  besides  the  reserves,  which,  with  the  rest,  form 
an  army  of  400,000  soldiers."  ^  The  King  adds,  not  with- 
out humor,  that  the  Austrian  generals  were  so  thoroughly 
convinced  by  his  demonstration  that  the  demand  for  ter- 
ritory soon  ceased  and  Alessandria  was  evacuated. 

1  Bianchi,  i,  234. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

CONSPIRACIES. 

By  the  end  of  the  year  1815  despotism  was  thus  re- 
stored in  Italy,  the  obsolete  became  once  more  current, 
and  the  Golden  Age  of  Paternalism  was  everywhere  pro- 
claimed. Each  petty  tyrant  busied  himself  in  securing 
the  throne  which  the  Holy  Alliance  had  assigned  to  him, 
and  Metternich  labored  without  pause  to  bring  all  the 
princelings,  either  through  intimidation  or  chicane,  under 
the  control  of  Austria.  But  to  every  government  there 
are  two  parties,  the  governors  and  the  governed ;  and  the 
riders  who  had  imposed  the  Old  Regime  on  Italy  found 
that  the  submissive  and  nonchalant  subjects  of  the  eigh- 
teenth century  had  disappeared.  Formerly  the  people 
had  borne  oppression  as  a  patient  bears  an  incurable 
disease,  murmuring  at  times,  and  at  times  writhing  to 
ease  their  bed-ridden  backs,  but  not  hoping  for  a  recov- 
ery ;  the  Revolution,  however,  had  taught  them  that  their 
ills  were  not  irremediable,  that  despotism  itself  was  not 
eternally  fixed  in  the  laws  of  nature,  that  there  were 
hope  and  freedom  for  brave  hearts.  They  had  seen  the 
rigid  system  of  Absolutist  kings  and  privileged  nobles 
melt  away  like  frost  before  the  fires  of  revolution ;  they 
had  seen  monarchs  scamper  under  cover,  and  the  Pope 
himself  led  hither  and  thither,  a  mere  feeljde  okl  man, 
whose  protests  were  unheeded  and  whose  sacred  office  was 
unrespected.  Napoleon's  achievements  made  that  ancient 
superstition,  — ''the  divine  right  of  kings," —  a  mockery 
forever,  and  the  force  behind  Napoleon  spread  the  convic- 
tion that  rulers  should  be  the  servants,  not  the  masters 
of  a  people. 


CONSPIRACIES.  191 

Moreover,  the  Italians  haxi  been  roused  into  activity. 
In  the  wars,  many  had  won  distinction ;  in  civil  offices, 
others  had  risen  to  prominence.  The  conscription  had 
helped  to  dim  local  jealousies  and  to  infuse  a  spirit  of 
discipline  in  the  lower  classes;  education  had  been  let 
down  to  thousands  who  had  never  before  known  their 
alphabet.  This  activity  implied  the  use  of  powers  loni^ 
dormant ;  and  from  the  consciousness  of  power  came  self- 
respect,  —  the  recognition  by  men  that  they  are  of  some 
value  in  the  world,  —  and  from  this  a  national  self-respect 
slowly  unfolded.  Fifty  years  before,  the  Italians  had 
taken  their  servitude  indifferently  or  with  that  fatalistic 
acquiescence  which  deadens  effort ;  now  they  were  ashamed 
of  it,  and  were  resolved  to  prove  themselves  worthy  of 
the  comradeship  of  freemen.  You  can  trace  the  budding 
of  this  regenerative  influence  in  their  very  dissatisfaction 
with  their  greatly  improved  material  condition  under 
Napoleon ;  they  had  bett(;r  codes  of  justice,  a  more  equal 
system  of  taxation,  and  a  fair  chance  to  rise  high  in  the 
army  or  the  State,  and  yet  they  were  not  satisfied.  Bona- 
parte was  a  splendid  master  compared  with  the  Bourbons, 
but  he  was  still  a  master,  to  whom  tliey  submitted  unwil- 
lingly. They  could  not  hope  to  overtlirow  him;  but  they 
looked  forward  to  his  death  as  the  signal  for  the  assertion 
of  their  inde})endence.  When  Napoleon  succumbed  in 
1814,  they' thought  the  hour  of  their  deliverance  at  liand, 
but  they  were  unprepared;  like  sparrows  they  were  limed 
by  the  cajoleries  and  insincerity  of  the  English  and  Aus- 
trians.  When  a  deputation  of  I^ombanls,  licadcd  by 
Confalonieri,  went  to  Paris  to  ])lea(l  for  self-government 
in  Northern  Italy,  the  Emperor  of  Austria  bluntly  in- 
formed them,  "You  belong  to  me  by  riglit  of  cessiou  and 
by  right  of  con(iuest."'  ("astlereagli,  the  English  minis- 
ter, to  whom  they  ai)pealed,  ent«M-tained  tliemwith  ])r:uses 
of  their  new  master:  "  Austria,"  said  he,  "is  a  goveiii- 
ment  against  whieh  suhjec-ts  liave  less  neeil  to  l>e  on  tlu-ir 


192  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

guard  than  any  other :  in  the  history  of  that  House  down 
to  our  time  there  are  no  traces  of  abuse  of  power  or  vio- 
lence ;  it  never  errs  through  excess,  but  sometimes  rather 
through  defect  of  these."  The  Czar,  to  whom  they  were 
admitted  after  many  delays,  cut  off  discussion  of  politics 
by  saying  that  he  hoped  the  Northern  Italians  would  be 
content,  as  arrangements  had  been  made  to  assure  their 
happiness,  and  he  dismissed  the  envoys  by  expressing 
his  pleasure  at  having  made  their  personal  acquaint- 
ance.^ Conscious  at  last  that  they  had  been  betrayed  and 
that  the  favorable  moment  had  slipped  by  them,  the 
Italians  now  resorted  to  plots.  They  had  secret  negotia- 
tions with  Napoleon  at  Elba,  whom  they  exhorted  to 
appear  among  them,  to  unify  Italy  under  his  sceptre,  and 
to  crown  his  marvelous  career  by  becoming  Emperor, 
with  Rome  for  his  capital.  But  Napoleon  trusted  to  the 
devotion  and  power  of  the  French,  rather  than  to  them, 
in  his  last  duel  with  Fortune,  and  after  Waterloo  the 
Italians  were  left  without  protection  against  their  despots. 
But  when  kings  are  tyrants,  citizens  conspire.  The 
seeds  of  Liberalism  had  been  sown  in  Italy,  and  the  pa- 
ternal governments  could  not  exterminate  them.  Dis- 
content, forbidden  to  utter  itself,  rankled  in  secret  and 
exhaled  contagion  from  town  to  town  and  from  class  to 
class.  Officers,  angry  at  being  displaced  by  foreigners 
or  by  court  favorites ;  soldiers,  mustered  out  of  the  ser- 
vice; judges,  magistrates,  and  a  horde  of  bureaucratic 
underlings,  dismissed  because  they  had  been  appointed 
by  the  French;  civilians,  disgusted  by  uncertain  taxes 
and  restricted  trade;  priests  and  monks,  reluctant  at 
being  forced  back  into  a  life  of  dependence;  brigands  and 
criminals,  always  hostile  to  the  existing  government: 
these,  and  all  others  who  had  a  grievance,  were  drawn 
into  the  ranks  of  the  Opposition.  But  discontent  is  a 
vague  and  sterile  sentiment  which  soon  wears  itself  out  in 

1  Confalonieri :    Memorie  e  Lettere  (Milan,  1890),  ii,  10,  10,  25. 


CONSPIRACIES.  193 

vain  fretfiilness  and  grumbling  unless  it  be  centred  on  an 
attainable  object:  the  object  which  now  united  the  mul- 
titudes of  malecontents  in  Italy  was  the  abolition  of  des- 
potism and  the  establishment  of  a  representative  govern- 
ment. Opinion  differed  as  to  what  means  should  be  used 
and  what  form  of  popular  government  was  the  best,  but 
all  agreed  that  the  first  attack  must  be  directed  against 
the  tyrants.  This  was  the  nucleus  round  which  all  plans, 
however  discord  mt,  clung,  the  patriotic  leaven  which 
raised  motives  often  selfish  and  base. 

The  Metternichian  system  allowed  no  discussion  of 
politics.  You  might  be  a  priest  or  a  merchant,  a  doctor, 
lawj'er,  beggarman,  or  thief,  but  you  could  not  be  a  citi- 
zen ;  because  being  a  citizen  implied  having  certain  ac- 
knowledged interests  and  rights  in  the  government  of  your 
city  and  State,  —  and  this  was  an  unpardonable  heresy  in 
the  eyes  of  the  Holy  Alliance.  Instead  of  being  grateful 
that  your  ruler  relieved  you  of  the  drudgery  and  worry 
of  public  affairs,  you  presumed  to  know  better  than  he 
knew  what  was  good  for  you.  You  cried  for  representa- 
tion and  liberty  as  a  child  cries  for  sweetmeats  and  dan- 
gerous playthings,  and  when  these  were  denied  you,  how 
you  stormed  and  sulked  at  your  prudent  tutors  I  As  if 
you,  forsooth,  were  as  much  interested  as  Prince  Metter- 
nich,  or  the  Duke  of  Modena,  or  the  King  of  Naples, 
in  your  own  welfare!  Tliis  was  tlie  attitude  logically 
taken  by  the  ujiholders  of  the  Old  Ecginie  towards  tht^ 
champions  of  political  freedom,  an  attitude  similar  to  that 
long  since  taken  l)y  the  Catholic  Church  towards  the  ad- 
vocates of  liberty  of  conscience  in  religii)us  matters.  But 
the  Italians  insisted  in  believing  that  tliey  ought  to  have 
civic  rights,  aiul  since  it  was  criniiual  to  discuss  politics 
openly,  they  were  driven  to  deliberatt-  and  conspire  in 
secret.  In  a  short  time,  the  Peninsula  was  honeycombed 
with  jdots. 

For  most  men,  Lfencrallv  in  their  vouth,  secrt't  societies 


194  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

have  a  strong  fascination:  the  mystery  which  gives  a 
fictitious  dignity,  the  exclusiveness  which  seems  to  give 
distinction,  attract  not  less  than  the  social  or  benevolent 
purposes  for  which  such  fraternities  are  usually  formed. 
In  Italy  the  secret  political  sects  were  the  only  vessels  in 
which  the  must  of  patriotism  could  gather  and  ferment. 
Secrecy  was  doubly  imperative,  because  on  it  depended 
not  only  the  existence  of  the  organization,  but  also  the 
very  lives  of  the  members.  The  revolutionary  period 
had  been  prolific  in  clubs,  and  it  was  natural  that  the 
Italians  shoidd  turn  to  these  as  the  fittest  agencies  for 
undermining  the  fortress  of  Absolutism.  Had  not  the 
despised  Jacobins  in  France  dominated  the  revolution 
which  overthrew  Louis  XVI?  Had  not  the  Tugendbund 
in  Germany  aroused  a  patriotic  fury  which  avenged  at 
Leipzig  the  humiliation  at  Jena?  The  historian  knows 
that  there  were  mighty  forces  behind  the  Jacobins,  and 
that  Stein  was  behind  the  Tugendbund,  but  the  Italians 
saw  only  the  visible  workers,  and  concluded  that  in  the 
clubs  themselves  lay  the  victorious  means.  Long  expe- 
rience with  crafty  rulers  and  an  innate  aptitude  for  diplo- 
macy —  which  is  only  a  dignified  and  official  kind  of 
cunning  — made  them  peculiarly  expert  conspirators. 
The  intolerable  political  situation  furnished  them  with 
an  excuse,  had  any  been  sought,  for  embarking  in  their 
perilous  secret  enterprise  against  the  restored  govern- 
ments. The  majority  of  the  conspirators,  at  least  at  first, 
had  doubtless  a  sufficient  motive  in  their  vague  but  real 
desire  for  national  independence  and  in  their  determina- 
tion to  escape  from  actual  burdens ;  others  conspired  be- 
cause they  had  failed  of  an  office,  or  had  lost  their  occu- 
pation, or  merely  because  they  loved  the  excitement  of 
plotting;  others,  again,  wished  to  avenge  private  insults; 
and  many  were  dra^vn  into  the  mysterious  circles  through 
curiosity  or  through  the  example  of  friends  or  through 
fear. 


CONSPIRACIES.  195 

The  most  famous,  the  most  widely  disseminated,  and 
the  most  powerful  of  all  the  secret  societies  which  spran<^ 
up  in  Italy  was  that  of  the  Carbonari,  or  Charcoal-mak- 
ers. It  multi})lied  so  rapidly  that  after  a  few  years  its 
members  hoped  to  clothe  it  with  additional  awe  by  invent- 
ing legends  wliich  linked  its  origin  to  a  remote  past. 
They  affirmed  that  the  Persian  worshipers  of  Mithras, 
the  adepts  of  the  Eleusinian  mysteries,  the  Knights  of  St. 
John,  and  the  Rosicrucians  had  all  been  earlier  Carbo- 
nari. A  mediaeval  hermit,  who  spent  his  days  in  making 
prayers  and  charcoal  in  the  forests  of  Germany,  was  the 
patron  of  the  sect ;  a  king  of  France,  who  lost  his  way 
while  hunting,  and  was  hos})itably  received  by  charcoal- 
burners,  had,  so  the  story  ran,  bestowed  honors  upon 
them  and  ennobled  their  guild.  These  wore  the  legends, 
bred  by  that  myth-loving  instinct  wliich  cradles  the  in- 
fancy of  sects  and  parties  in  the  su])ernatural  or  the  an- 
cient. But  Clio  smiles  incredulously  at  these  fictions, 
and  though  she  cannot,  in  the  case  of  the  Carbonari,  tell 
just  when  and  where  that  soi-iet}^  originated,  still  she  can 
discard  fearlessly  those  reports  of  the  hermit  St.  Theobald 
and  the  strayed  monarch.  The  Carbonari  first  began  to 
attract  attention  in  the  Kingdom  of  Naples  about  the  year 
1808.  A  Genoese  named  Maghella,  who  burned  with 
hatred  of  the  French,  is  said  to  have  initiated  several 
Neajjolitans  into  a  secret  order  whose  pur})(is('  it  was  to 
goad  their  countrymen  into  rebellion.  They  (pilttt-d 
Na])l«'s,  where  Murat's  vigilant  policy  kept  too  stiict  a 
watch  on  conspirators,  and  retired  to  the  Abruzzi,  where 
in  order  to  disarm  sus]>ieion  they  ])reten(led  to  be  engaged 
in  charcoal-burning.  As  their  numbers  iiu-reased,  agents 
were  sent  to  establish  lodges  in  the  ]>riucipal  towns.  The 
Boiu'bou  king,  shut  up  in  Sicily,  soon  heard  of  them, 
and  as  he  had  not  hesitated  at  letting  loose  with  F>nglisli 
aid  galley-prisoners,  or  at  enconraging  brigands,  to  ha- 
rass  Murat,  so  he  eagerly  connived   with  these   conspira- 


196  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

tors  in  the  hope  of  recovering  his  throne.  Murat,  having 
striven  for  several  years  to  suppress  the  Carbonari,  at 
last,  when  he  found  his  power  slipping  from  him,  reversed 
his  policy  towards  them,  and  strove  to  conciliate  them. 
But  it  was  too  late :  neither  he  nor  they  could  prevent  the 
restoration  of  the  Bourbons  under  the  protection  of  Aus- 
tria. The  sectaries  who  had  hitherto  foolishly  expected 
that,  if  the  French  could  be  expelled,  Ferdinand  would 
grant  them  a  Liberal  government,  were  soon  cured  of 
their  delusion,  and  they  now  plotted  against  him  as  sedu- 
lously as  they  had  plotted  against  his  predecessor.  Their 
membership  increased  to  myriads ;  their  lodges,  starting 
up  in  every  village  in  the  Kingdom  of  Naples,  had  rela- 
tions with  branch-societies  in  all  parts  of  the  Peninsula : 
to  the  anxious  ears  of  European  despots  the  name  Car- 
bonaro  soon  meant  all  that  was  lawless  and  terrible ;  it 
meant  anarchy,  chaos,  assassination. 

But  when  we  read  the  catechism,  or  confession  of  faith, 
of  the  Carbonari  we  are  surprised  by  the  reasonableness 
of  their  aims  and  tenets.  The  duties  of  the  individual 
Carbonaro  were,  "to  render  to  the  Alraiglity  the  worship 
due  to  Him ;  to  serve  the  fatherland  with  zeal ;  to  rever- 
ence religion  and  laws ;  to  fulfil  the  obligations  of  nature 
and  friendship ;  to  be  faithful  to  promises ;  to  observe 
silence,  discretion,  and  charity;  to  cause  harmony  and 
good  morals  to  prevail;  to  conquer  the  passions  and  sub- 
mit the  will;  and  to  abhor  the  seven  deadly  sins."  The 
scope  of  the  Society  was  to  disseminate  instruction;  to 
unite  the  different  classes  of  society  under  the  bond  of 
love ;  to  impress  a  national  character  on  the  people,  and  to 
interest  them  in  the  preservation  and  defense  of  the  fa- 
therland and  of  religion ;  to  destroy  by  moral  culture  the 
source  of  crimes  due  to  the  general  depravity  of  mankind ; 
to  protect  the  weak  and  to    raise  iip    the    unfortunate.^ 

^   Istruzioni per  MdcMri  Carbonari,  compilate  dal   B.  C.  G.  M.  LanztUutli, 
ad  uso  della  li.  V-  Partenope  Einasrentc  (Naples,   18li0). 


CONSPIRACIES.  197 

These  were  worthy  aims,  but,  we  ask,  why  did  the 
Church,  which  had  for  centuries  pretended  that  the  regen- 
eration of  mankind  hatl  been  intrusted  to  her  by  God's 
command,  —  why  did  she  leave  to  conspirators,  met  in 
secret  at  the  peril  of  their  lives,  the  execution  of  her  holy 
mission?  Ah,  her  mission  had  ceased  to  be  holy  I  By 
her  league  with  JVIammon,  by  her  intolerance  in  matters 
spiritual,  by  her  compact  with  tyranny  in  matters  tem- 
poral, by  the  pride  and  hypocrisy  of  her  i)relates,  by  the 
sensuality  and  selfishness  of  her  priests,  by  the  ignorance 
and  sensuality  of  her  monks,  she  had  lost  her  divine 
birthright,  she  hatl  ceased  to  spiritualize  the  souls  of  her 
children.  That  Carbonaro  catechism  announced,  what 
many  men  had  long  felt,  that  the  observances  and  pre- 
scriptions of  the  Catholic  Church  were  luinecessary  to  the 
leading  of  a  i)ious,  humane  life.  It  went  still  farther  and 
asserted  the  un-Catholic  doctrine  of  liberty  of  conscience : 
"to  every  Carbonaro,''  so  reads  one  of  its  articles, 
"belongs  the  natural  and  unalterable  right  to  worship 
the  Almighty  according  to  his  own  intuition  and  under- 
standing." 

We  must  not  be  misled,  however,  by  these  enlightened 
professions,  into  a  wrong  notion  of  the  real  purposes  of 
Carbonarism.  Politics,  in  s])ite  of  a  ride  forbidding 
political  discussion,  were  the  main  business,  and  ethics 
but  the  incidental  concern  of  tlie  cons])irat(>rs.  Tliey 
organized  tlieir  Order  under  r('])ublican  foi-nis  as  if  to 
])rcfigure  the  ideal  towards  wliich  they  asj)ired.  Tlie 
Kcpublic  was  snlxlivided  into  provinces,  each  of  which 
was  controlled  by  a  grand  lodge,  that  of  Salerno  being 
the  "parent."  There  were  also  four  "Tribes."  eacli 
having  a  council  and  holding  an  annual  diet.  Eacli  tiibe 
had  a  Senate,  whicli  advised  a  ITous{>  of  Representatives, 
and  this  framed  the  laws  wliich  a  magistracy  executed. 
There  were  courts  of  tlie  lii-st  instance,  of  apjX'al.  and  of 
cassation,  and  no  Carbonaro  might  hriiig  suit   in  the  civil 


198  THE   DAWN   OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

courts  against  a  fellow  member,  unless  he  had  first  failed 
to  get  redress  in  one  of  these.  If  strictly  followed,  this 
complicated  scheme  must  have  given  the  Good  Cousins 
some  experience  in  living  on  terms  of  mutual  equality 
and  some  notion  of  popular  government,  within  the  limits 
of  the  sect;  but  fictitious  charcoal-makers  were  not  less 
sensitive  than  other  -  mortals  to  the  distinctions  between 
ability  and  didness;  and  they  fell  under  the  dictatorship 
of  a  few  leaders  in  whose  election  they  had  only  a  nom- 
inal part,  and  into  whose  proceedings  they  were  not 
admitted. 

The  Carbonari  borrowed  some  of  their  rites  from  the 
Freemasons,  with  whom  indeed  they  were  commonly 
reported  to  be  in  such  close  relations  that  Freemasons 
who  joined  the  "Carbonic  Republic"  were  spared  the 
formality  of  initiation;  other  parts  of  their  ceremonial 
they  copied  from  the  New  Testament,  with  such  additions 
as  the  special  objects  of  the  order  called  for.  To  many 
persons  who  do  not  understand  the  power  which  symbols 
and  arbitrary  ceremonials  exert  over  nine  tenths  of  man- 
kind, those  of  the  Charcoal-makers  may  seem  puerile, 
but  to  the  Charcoal-makers  they  were  solemn  enough, 
being  the  signs  of  life  and  death.  The  house  where  the 
meeting  was  held  was  called  the  "■&f/rffcca,"  or  hut,  the 
lodge  itself  was  the  "  vendita,''''  or  place  of  sale;  members 
saluted  each  other  as  ''''Buotii  Cvf/ini,"  or  "Good  Cous- 
ins," and  stigmatized  the  uninitiated  as  "pagans."  God 
was  honored  with  the  title  of  Grand  Master  of  the  Uni- 
verse. Christ,  an  Honorary  Grand  Master,  was  known 
as  the  Lamb,  and  every  Good  Cousin  pledged  himself  to 
rescue  the  Lamb  from  the  jaws  of  the  Wolf,  — ^  tyranny, 
that  is,  — which  had  long  persecuted  him.  St.  Theobald 
was  the  special  patron  of  the  society.  There  were  com- 
monly two  degrees,  that  of  the  Apprentices  and  that  of 
the  Masters,  but  there  were  sometimes  others,  —  in  Sicily 
we  hear  of    eleven,  —  lifted  above  the  vulgar  level  and 


CONSPIRACIES.  199 

adorned  with  interminable  titles.  Having  been  elected 
by  an  unanimous  vote,  the  candidate  for  apprenticeship 
was  conducted  to  the  barrack  by  his  Master,  and  left 
awhile  in  the  "closet  of  reflection,"  where,  we  may  sup- 
pose, excitement  and  suspense  pitched  his  nerves  on  a 
high  key.  Then  he  was  brought,  always  bandaged,  to 
the  door  of  the  lodge,  in  which  was  a  slide,  whereby  cer- 
tain questions  were  put  to  him  from  within.  Having 
answered  these  satisfactorily,  he  was  acbnitted  into  the 
hall  itself,  where  the  Grand  Master,  seated  before  a  huge 
tree-trunk,  thus  addressed  him ;  "  Profane  one  I  the  first 
qualities  we  seek  are  sincerity  of  heart  and  a  heroic 
constancy  in  scorning  perils.  Have  you  these?  "  The 
neo])hyte  replied,  "Yes,"  and  was  then  dismissed  to  take 
his  "first  journey."  On  liis  return,  he  was  asked  what 
he  had  observed;  "Noises  and  obstacles,"  was  his  an- 
swer, which  the  Grand  Master  expounded  in  this  wise: 
"This  first  journey  is  the  emblem  of  human  life;  the 
noise  of  the  leaves  and  the  obstacles  indicate  that,  being 
of  frail  flesh,  as  we  swim  in  this  vale  of  tears,  we  cannot 
arrive  at  virtue  unless  we  be  guided  by  reason  and 
assisted  l)y  good  works."  After  that  the  neophyte  must 
take  a  "second  journey,"  in  which  he  passed  through  a 
fire  and  beheld  a  trunkless  human  head,  —  the  former 
symbolized  charity,  whicU  purges  the  heart,  the  latter 
was  a  warning  of  the  doom  of  traitors.  Having  Iwen 
brought  back  to  the  lodge,  he  was  made  to  knci'l  before 
the  (irand  Master's  block,  and  to  repeat  the  following 
oath,  "I  swear  and  jjromise  on  tht;  institution  of  this 
order  in  general,  and  on  tliis  steel  (the  axe  which  served 
the  Grand  Master  as  a  gavel),  the  ]>uuislier  of  ])erjurers, 
to  keep  scrupulously  the  seei-etsof  the  ('arboMie  Kej)ublic: 
not  to  write,  grave,  nor  paint  anything,  without  having 
received  written  permission.  I  swear  that  I  will  sueeor 
my  fellowmen,  and  especially  the  (iood  Cousins  Carbon- 
ari, in  case  of  their  needs,  and  in  so  far  as  niv  means  per- 


200  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

mit,  and  likewise  not  to  attaint  the  honor  of  their  fami- 
lies. If  I  prove  forsworn,  I  consent  that  my  body  be 
hewn  in  pieces,  then  burnt,  and  my  ashes  scattered  to  the 
winds,  that  my  name  be  held  in  execration  by  all  Good 
Cousins  on  earth.  And  so  God  help  me!"  Then  he 
demanded  light,  and  was  unbandaged  in  the  middle  of 
the  room,  where  the  members  surrounded  him,  and  bran- 
dished axes.  "These  weapons,"  the  Grand  Master  ex- 
plained to  him,  "will  serve  to  slay  you  if  you  perjure 
yourself ;  but  they  wiU  fly  to  your  aid  if  you  prove  faith- 
ful." Then  the  badge,  countersign,  and  grip  were  given, 
and  the  meeting  was  concluded  with  regular  business  pro- 
ceedings. ^  Sometimes  the  Apprentice  was  sworn  in  by 
a  single  Carbonaro,  or  again,  he  was  received  by  mem- 
bers in  masks  so  that  he  could  not  recognize  them.  He 
must  pass  a  year's  probation,  during  which,  though  igno- 
rant of  the  secrets  of  the  Order,  he  was  liable  to  be  called 
upon  to  show  his  obedience  and  courage  before  he  was 
advanced  to  the  Master's  degree. 

The  ordeal  prescribed  for  this  occasion  was  more  awful, 
to  correspond  to  the  greater  responsibility  imposed  on 
Masters  Carbonari,  and  consisted  of  an  imitation,  —  shall 
we  say  a  travesty?  —  of  the  Passion  of  Christ.  The 
lodge  assembled  "when  the  cock  crew  at  the  appearance 
of  the  morning  star."  "Wlw  is  this  rash  Apprentice 
who  dares  to  disturb  our  sublime  labors?  "  asked  the  Ter- 
rible One;  upon  which  the  sponsors  led  the  Apprentice 
out  to  the  "Garden  of  Olives,"  where  he  repeated  Christ's 
prayer.  On  their  return,  the  Terrible  One  said,  "The 
man  is  thirsty,"  and  an  Expert  reached  him  a  cup.  Then 
he  was  bound,  and  led  before  other  Experts  who  imper- 
sonated Pontius  Pilate,  Caiphas,  Herod,  and  the  Captain 
of  the  Centurions,  "xlrt  thou  the  son  of  God?"  quoth 
Herod.    "Thou  sayest  it,"  the  Apprentice  replied.    Then 

^  Nuovo  Statuto  organico  della  Carboneria  della  R.  Lucana  Occidentale, 
1818. 


CONSPIRACIES.  201 

the  Good  Cousins  mocked  him,  and  clamored  for  his 
death.  He  was  crowned  with  thorns,  stripped,  bound  to 
a  column  and  given  G,6GG  stripes, — not,  we  infer,  hy 
actual  count,  —  and  then  he  was  stretched  on  the  Cross. 
But  the  multitude  relented,  and  cried  out  that  mercy  be 
shown  to  him.  So  his  bandage  was  taken  off  and  he  stood 
among  his  fellows,  a  Master  Carbonaro.^ 

The  scheme  of  symbolism  spun  by  the  fantastic  brains 
of  the  Carbonari  would  have  delighted  the  quibbling  stu- 
dents of  the  Zohar  or  the  Kabbala.  Thus  when  the  neo- 
phyte was  asked,  "Who  is  your  father?  "  he  was  to  raise 
his  eyes  towards  heaven ;  when  asked,  "  Who  is  your 
mother?"  he  lowered  them  toward  earth;  and  when  asked 
"Where  are  your  brothers?"  he  looked  round  on  the 
members  of  the  lodge.  The  Carbonaro  colors  were  black, 
red,  and  blue:  black  signified  first  charcoal,  and  thou 
faith;  red  was  fire  and  charity;  blue  was  smoke  and 
hope.  The  Grand  Master's  Idock  represented  the  surface 
of  the  earth ;  the  tree  from  which  it  was  cut  reminded 
tlie  Carbonari  of  the  heavens  which  are  spread  impar- 
tially over  all  persons ;  its  roots  meant  stability;  its  foli- 
age suggested  perpetual  greenness,  and  that  "as  our  pro- 
genitors, having  lost  their  innocence,  covered  their  shame 
with  leaves,  so  we,  amid  the  same  universal  depravity, 
ought  to  hide  our  brother's  faidts,  and  partit-ularly  our 
own."  The  linen  sheet,  in  wliich  the  A])[)rentice  was 
wrapped,  taught  tliat  "just  as  the  plant  from  whicli  it 
was  made  by  toil  and  maceration  had  become  wings,  so 
we  should  become  ])nre  and  clean  by  continuous  and  un- 
weai'ied  effort."  Water  ])urified.  Salt  ke]>t  from  eor- 
ru])tion.  The  crown  of  tliorns  reminds  us,  says  the 
Carbonaro  clia])lain,  "that  wearing  it  on  oui'  head,  we 
must  be  motionless  and  cautious  in  oi'der  to  avoid  its 
pi'ieks;  likewise  wearing  it  on  our  wills  we  must  not  l)e 
restive   under  the   dominion   of   intellect   and    reason,  but 

'   Istruziuni  /Jir  Mai.-ilri  ('((rlmiKiri,  romjiiUid'  did    li.  C.  (!.  M.   I.ariZ'  l!"tli. 


202  THE    DAWN    OF   ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE, 

ever  removed  from  vice,  and  attached  to  virtue  only." 
The  cross,  phiinly  enough  the  emblem  of  travail,  perse- 
cution, and  death,  "teaches  us  to  persevere  in  our  efforts 
without  fear,  in  imitation  of  Jesus  Christ,  who  voluntarily 
suffered  death  that  he  might  lead  us  on  so  sublime  a 
road."  The  earth,  which  hides  the  body  in  oblivion, 
typifies  the  secrecy  in  which  the  mysteries  of  the  Order 
must  be  hidden.  The  ladder  was  a  sign  that  virtue  can 
be  attained  toilfuUy,  step  by  step.  The  bundle  of  fag- 
ots meant  union:  "it  is  also  the  material  for  the  sub- 
lime furnace  of  our  works,"  continues  the  expositor, 
"wherein,  reunited  by  the  same  spirit,  we  love  nuitually 
to  kindle  our  hearts  with  the  fervid  heat  of  charity,  which 
makes  us  perfect  and  renews  us,  like  the  fagots  in  the 
fire,  changing  their  quality  into  another ;  thus  our  hearts 
being  kindled  by  the  fragrance  of  our  labors  are  sub- 
limed in  hope."^ 

But  we  need  delve  no  farther  into  the  mystic  imagin- 
ings of  the  Charcoal-makers.  The  passion  for  symbols 
and  allegory  soars  to  the  sublime  or  sinks  to  the  ridicu- 
lous, as  the  poetry  and  creeds  of  the  world  and  the  pedan- 
tries of  theology  show;  but  even  symbols  which  to  the 
uninitiated  seem  commonplace  or  bizarre,  may  have  vital 
significance  to  believers.  Your  national  flag,  for  in- 
stance, what  is  it  to  the  African  savage  but  a  strip  of 
party-colored  cloth;  but  to  your  countrymen  in  1)attle  it 
means  all  that  is  dearer  than  life.  And  so  that  munnnery 
and  crude  symbolism  of  the  Carbonari  may  have  touched 
their  imagination  and  hallowed  their  resolves. 

]More  practical  were  the  penalties  whicli  they  decreed 
for  offenders.  Treachery  they  punished  by  death,  the 
execution  to  be  secret,  whether  the  culprit  were  brought 
to  trial  or  not.  Lighter  offenses  had  lighter  chastise- 
ment. Suspension  from  the  lodge  for  a  given  time,  gen- 
eral imprecation,  burning  in  effigy,  and  the  interdiction 

1  Istruzioni per  Aiipremhnti  Carbonari  (Naples,  182n). 


CONSPIRACIES.  203 

of  fire,  water,  and  all  intercourse,  were  the  usual  punish- 
ments in  a  rising  scale  of  severity.  It  was  naturally 
deemed  more  heinous  to  injure  a  Good  Cousin  than  a 
Pagan  and  there  were  curious  discriminations  in  judging 
the  importance  of  crimes.  Thus  a  Good  Cousin  might 
be  suspended  from  six  months  to  a  year  for  drunkenness, 
or  from  six  months  to  two  years  for  gambling  or  adultery, 
but  the  latter  crime  was  more  venial  when  the  woman 
happened  to  be  a  Pagan,  and  not  the  wife  or  daughter  of 
a  Carbonaro.^ 

The  Carbonari  flourished  in  the  Kingdom  of  Naples, 
but  the  ramifications  of  their  order  spread  out  into  all 
parts  of  Italy,  and  where  there  was  no  Charcoal-makers' 
vendita  there  were  sure  to  be  other  sects  devoted  to  the 
same  cause.  Like  the  literary  societies  of  the  previous 
century,  they  delighted  in  grotesque  or  absurd  titles,  such 
as  the  Unshirted,  the  Hermits,  the  White  Pilgrims,  the 
Sleepers,  the  Adelphi,  the  Oppressed  not  Conquered. 
At  Kavenna  there  were  the  American  Hunters,  to  which 
Byron  belonged;  at  Padua,  the  University  stiidents  had 
a  club  called  the  Savages,  and  were  accused  of  prefer- 
ring blood  as  a  )>everage;  in  Pomagna,  there  were  the 
Sons  of  Mars,  all  soldiers  past  or  present;  at  Modena, 
the  Spilla  Nera  Society  plotted  in  belialf  of  the  Bona- 
partists;  at  Leghorn,  the  Bucatori  were  popularly  be- 
lieved to  commit  at  least  one  murder  a  day ;  the  Decisi, 
wlio  infested  Calabria  and  the  Abruzzi,  had  among  their 
officers  a  "registrar  of  the  dead"  and  a  "director  of  fu- 
nerals," and  they  used  blood  as  well  as  ink  on  theii-  (li])l()- 
mas.  Even  the  women  caught  the  general  infection  :  at 
Na])les  we  hear  of  a  society  of  "(Jardeneresses  *"  in  wliose 
ritual  flower-])ots  and  sprinklers  rose  to  mystic  signifi- 
cance.     Carbonarism    itselt"    was   carefully   oi-ganized    in 

^  CatboiKirismus  (Weimar.  l>^Jl.*).  ;i  (nTtiiaii  translation  by  H.  Doi'iinf^ 
of  ii  book  ]>ublislic(l  in  London  in  IS-JI,  entitled  Mi  iiinira  <;/'  tin  Sun  I  Si>- 
ciV/lVs  of  the  South  of  Itali^,  jmrtiruliirli/  thv  Carliunnri. 


204  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

France,  where,  before  long,  Lafayette,  Louis  Philippe, 
and  other  prominent  politicians  were  known  to  be  Good 
Cousins.  Of  the  Hetairia,  a  league  formed  with  tlie  in- 
tent of  freeing  Greece  from  the  Turks,  and  having  a 
branch  at  Milan,  or  of  the  plotters  in  Germany,  we  need 
not  s^jeak.  Whoever  has  visited  the  slumbering  crater 
of  Solfatara  near  Naples  will  remember  how  he  was  fii'st 
impressed  by  the  supernal  stiUness  and  desolation:  the 
whitish  sandy  surface  of  the  crater  seemed  to  be  strewn 
with  human  ashes;  but  if  he  scraped  a  little  hole  in  the 
sand  he  found  the  earth  beneath  too  hot  to  touch;  and  if 
he  but  put  his  ear  to  the  ground,  he  heard  portentous 
rumblings ;  and  now  and  then  he  saw  jets  of  sulphurous 
steam  puff  and  rise  from  crannies  along  the  margin  of 
the  crater.     After   1815,  Italy  was  a  political  Solfatara 

—  outwardly  a  dry,  dead  crust,  but  inwardly  molten  with 
suppressed  passions  and  seething  with  pent-up  desires. 

Metternich  and  his  pupils  in  government  were  not 
ignorant  of  their  danger,  but  their  maxim  was,  "Keep 
the  surface  quiet,"  and  their  wisdom  lay  in  closing  all 
the  safety-valves.  They  saw  no  more  in  these  symptoms 
of  popular  discontent  with  tyranny  than  the  purpose  of 
a  minority  of  bad  men  to  overthrow  the  legitimate  order 
and  to  profit  by  the  anarchy  that  must  ensue.  So  Leo 
the  Tenth  saw  only  a  "monkish  squabble  "  in  Luther's 
protest.  Metternich  himself,  and  those  who  like  him 
imagined  that  they  took  a  philosophic  view  of  history, 
held  the  theory  that  the  Euroiican  body  politic  had  re- 
cently been  suffering  from  a  virulent  disease,  Jacobinism, 

—  a  sort  of  political  black  measles,  —  which  had  been 
most  fatal  in  France,  and  which  was  now  wearing  itself 
out  under  a  milder  form  in  Italy.  As  State  physicians 
it  was  their  duty  to  administer  opiates,  or  even  to  clap 
the  patient  in  a  strait- jacket,  until  the  delirium  should 
be  quelled.  But  we  can  see  that  those  old  jn-aetitioners 
were  woefully  mistaken.      What  they  thought  i)oison  in 


CONSPIRACIES.  205 

the  blood,  was  the  fever  of  rejuvenescence ;  the  spirit  of 
Liberty,  denied  utterance  and  activity  in  the  open,  was 
secretly  quiekeninj^  the  hearts  of  conspirators.  God 
works  not  by  whims  and  spurts  but  slowly,  lawfully, 
without  stay  or  afterthought:  when  He  discerns  that  a 
species  or  a  system  has  fulfilled  its  mission,  lie  does  not 
at  once  blot  it  out.  He  does  not  annihilate  it,  but  He 
replaces  it  by  another,  and  the  process  of  substitution  is 
gradual.  He  is  the  Great  Joiner,  who  wastes  no  mate- 
rial, but  fashions  the  new  out  of  the  old.  Since  Crea- 
tion's dawn  He  has  needed  to  make  not  a  single  atom; 
what  then  was,  has  sufficed  for  the  infinite  variety  of  His 
handiwork.  When  creeds  or  politics,  having  served  their 
time,  become  materialized  and  obstructive,  fearful  of  the 
Present  and  wholly  relying  on  the  Past,  He  discloses  to 
a  few  souls  the  better  Ideal  which  is  to  conquer  and 
transform  the  world.  And  as  if  to  teach  us  His  onuiii)o- 
tence,  He  intrusts  His  message  not  to  the  world's  elite ^ 
but  often  to  menial  and  despised  agents.  As  out  of  the 
catacombs  of  old  Rome  there  issued  a  new  spirit,  so  out 
of  the  burrows  where  the  Carbonari  plotted,  tlie  Ideal  of 
Freedom  was  to  issue  and  to  pervade  Italy,  —  an  Ideal 
not  soon  to  be  realized,  owing  to  tlie  perverseness  and 
frailty  and  blunders  of  those  to  whom  it  was  revealed, 
and  to  the  huge  bulk  of  that  other  Ideal,  of  the  Old 
liegimi!  which  it  must  slowly  dissolve. 

The  safety  of  the  clubs  of  conspirators  depended  u]>ou 
secrecy,  and  we  liave  seen  by  what  terrihle  tlireats  they 
sought  to  deter  iuforuKn's;  but  it  was  inevitable  tliat  the 
existence  of  an  organization  which  had  off-shoots  in  every 
disti'ict,  and  whose  membership  soon  luimhered  a  quarter 
of  a  million,  shonld  be  known  to  the  ever  anxious,  ever 
watchful  inyrnrKh)ns  of  tvranny.  ('ail)onaiism,  as  any 
on(!  could  see,  set  up  a  State  within  the  State,  a  tentative 
Hcpuhlic  amid  an  Autocracy,  and  it  ])i'oposc(i  to  aholish 
autocra<'v   altoucthcr.      Xo    Lrovcrnnicnt.    however    fccltlc 


206  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCK. 

or  incompetent  it  may  be,  can  tolerate  such  an  enemy, 
which  aims  at  its  destruction.  The  Bourbons  at  Naples 
had  a  strong  instinct  of  self-preservation  and  a  strong 
love  of  power,  both  of  which  warned  them  that  strenuous 
measures  were  needed.  But  how  to  seize  the  skulking 
Briarean  monster?  Hercules  slew  Hydra,  but  the  many- 
headed  Carbonaria  was  invisible.  Nevertheless,  Prince 
Canosa,  the  Neapolitan  Director  of  Police,  was  not 
daunted.  He  set  his  spies  and  detectives  on  the  track 
of  the  conspirators ;  with  money  in  hand  he  waited  to  buy 
the  revelations  of  traitors;  he  commanded  his  agents  to 
join  the  Order  that  they  might  not  only  learn  the  secrets 
of  the  Good  Cousins  but  also  instigate  discord  among 
them.  He  knew  the  efficacy  of  fighting  fire  with  fire, 
and  so  he  organized  a  rival  secret  society  to  serve  as  a 
counterpoise  to  Carbonaro  iniluence.  The  Calderari  or 
Tinkers  were  his  proteges,  who  had  their  mystic  cauldron 
and  fire,  their  ritual  and  buifoonery,  and  who  were 
pledged  to  support  the  Bourbons.  Thus  when  rats  infest 
your  house  you  send  a  ferret  through  the  wainscoting  to 
drive  them  out;  but  the  Bourbon  f(>rrets  had  dull  teeth 
and  little  pluck,  and  the  Charcoal-makers  throve  in  spite 
of  the  Tinkers,  and  in  si)ite  of  the  eaves-dropping  police. 
Canosa  himself  was  scarcely  surprised  that  his  cun- 
ning measures  could  only  keep  the  surface  calm,  witliout 
checking  the  ferment  beneath,  for  he  looked  deeper  than 
did  many  of  his  colleagues,  and  he  was  wdse  in  Machia- 
vellian wisdom.  Divide  et  impera.,  was  his  warning  to 
the  ''Kings  of  the  Earth:"  "You  have  forgotten  this 
maxim,  carved  on  the  foundations  of  thrones :  you  would 
have  ruled  the  world  with  a  single  rein,  and  this  has 
broken  in  your  hands.  Divide  et  impera.  Divide 
j^eople  from  ])eople,  province  from  province,  city  from 
city,  leaving  to  each  its  interests,  its  statutes,  its  privi- 
leges, its  rights  and  liberties.  Let  the  citizens  persuade 
themselves   that  they  are  of   some   account   at  home,  — 


CONSPIRACIES.  207 

allow  the  people  to  amuse  themselves  with  the  innocent 
playthings  of  municipal  wire-pullings,  ambitions  and 
contests,  —  cause  public  spirit  to  revive  by  the  emanci- 
pation of  the  connnunes,  —  and  the  phantom  of  national 
spirit  will  no  longer  be  the  maddening  demon  of  all 
minds."  Here,  indeed,  Canosa  put  his  finger  on  that 
policy  of  centralization  which  Napoleon  had  adoi)ted, 
and  which  the  restored  despots  had  retained  in  the  belief 
that  it  would  strengthen  their  power ;  but  the  wily  Prince 
saw  that  they  were  throwing  away  the  substance  for  the 
shadow.  "Another  chief  cause  of  the  overturn  of  the 
world  is,"  he  continued,  "the  too  great  diffusion  of  let- 
ters and  of  that  itch  for  literature  that  has  penetrated 
even  the  bones  of  fishmongers  and  hostlers.  In  the  world 
are  needed  not  so  much  learned  and  literary  men  as  cob- 
blers, tailors,  smiths,  agriculturalists,  and  artisans  of  all 
kinds,  and  there  is  needed  a  great  mass  of  well-behaved 
and  docile  people  who  content  themselves  to  live  on  the 
faith  of  others,  and  who  let  the  world  be  guided  by  the 
light  of  others,  without  pretending  to  guide  it  b}'  their 
own.  For  all  siu'h  peo})le  literature  is  harmful,  becausti 
it  stirs  u])  those  intellects  which  Nature  has  destined  to 
work  in  a  restricted  s])here;  it  promotes  doubts  wliii'h 
the  mediocrity  of  its  enlightenment  is  insufficient  to  solve ; 
it  incites  to  spiritual  pleasures  which  make  insupportable 
the  monotonous  and  tedious  toil  of  the  body;  it  awakens 
desires  disproportionate  to  the  humbleness  of  tlieir  condi- 
tion; and  by  rendering  the  people  discontented  with  their 
lot.  it  disposes  tliem  to  try  to  ])nrsue  a  different  lot. 
A\  herefore,  instead  of  unnieasui'cdly  favoring  instruction 
and  civilization,  you  ought  juudently  to  set  some  limit  to 
them;  and  to  consider  that  if  there  existed  a  master  who 
in  a  single  lesson  could  make  them  all  as  learned  as  Aris- 
totle, and  as  polished  as  the  major-domo  of  the  King  of 
France,  it  woidd  be  ii<'ee-.s;iiy  to  kill  that  niastei-  iiiiim- 
diately,    in   oriler   not    to   see    society   destroyed.       Lea\e 


208  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE, 

books  and  studies  to  the  distinguished  classes,  and  to 
some  extraordinary  genius  who  makes  a  road  for  himself 
through  the  obscurity  of  his  grade,  but  cause  the  slioe- 
maker  to  be  contented  with  his  awl,  the  rustic  with  his 
mattock,  without  going  to  spoil  his  heart  and  mind  in  the 
primary  school."^ 

I  have  quoted  this  passage  because  it  proves  that  some 
at  least  of  the  supporters  of  the  Old  Regime  divined  the 
depth  at  which  the  new  spirit  they  dreaded  was  working, 
and  that  they  dared  with  brutal  frankness  to  prescribe  a 
brutal  remedy.  To  encourage  ignorance  would  seem  to 
be  an  easy  task  for  a  minister,  since  ignorance,  like  a 
fissiparous  parasite,  propagates  itself  by  rapid  subdivi- 
sions, each  of  which  is  in  turn  the  parent  of  new  swarms. 
No  advocate  of  enlightenment  could  have  accused  a  Bour- 
bon ruler  of  being  its  patron,  nor  could  the  oldest  inhab- 
itant remember  any  master  who  went  about  making  the 
peasants  as  wise  as  Aristotle  and  as  elegant  as  the 
French  king's  major-domo.  By  intrusting  education  to 
priests  and  Jesuits,  and  by  gagging  the  press,  the  princes 
of  Italy  followed  part  of  Canosa's  advice:  but  they  were 
too  dull  or  too  rapacious  to  heed  the  rest  and  give  up  those 
centralizing  measures  which  by  allaying  local  jealousies 
fostered  discontent  and  made  men  all  the  more  ready  to 
hearken  to  the  "demon  "  of  patriotism. 

The  order  of  the  Carbonari  grew,  notwithstanding 
Canosa's  vigilance,  and  shed  what  light  it  could  through 
the  darkened  windows  of  its  lodges.  It  attracted  whoso- 
ever desired  his  country's  emancipation  and  believed  that 
jilotting  would  lead  to  that  goal.  At  its  void  it  e  men  met 
as  peers  who  were  separated  by  class  barriers  in  the  world 
outside.  They  had  a  common  purpose,  a  common  judi- 
ciary, and  they  were  bound  together  by  the  sense  of  a 
common  danger.     But  what  they  lacked  —  and  the  defect 

1  Canosa  :    Esj/erienza  at  lie  della  Terra,  quoted  by  Cantii  :    Cronistoria, 
ii,  130,  note  11. 


CONSPIRACIES.  209 

was  vital  —  was  a  resolute  and  prudent  head.  No  great 
movement  has  ever  triumphed  which  has  been  guided  only 
by  a  committee :  men  must  see  their  cause  personified  in 
one  leader,  round  whom  they  can  rally  and  for  whom,  if 
need  be,  they  can  die.  Abstractions  must  be  made  flesh 
before  men  will  fight  for  them.  But  the  Carbonari  and 
the  other  Italian  conspirators  had  no  commander-in-chief. 
The  rank  and  flle  were  expected  to  obey  unreservedly 
whatever  orders  came  to  them  from  above.  Often  they 
did  not  know  the  names  of  their  leaders,  who  shrouded 
themselves  in  mystery.  Sometimes  it  was  hinted  that 
certain  very  distinguished  personages  were  at  the  helm, 
but  that  they  would  reveal  themselves  only  after  the  con- 
spiracy should  succeed. 

While  the  sect  was  thus  governed  by  an  anonymous 
corporation,  it  was  also  the  prey  of  local  differences. 
Lodge  vied  with  lodge  in  audacious  proposals,  and  in 
each  lodge  the  most  daring  or  the  most  vehement  Good 
Cousins  naturally  acquired  the  greatest  influence.  If  the 
})rudent  demurred,  they  might  be  written  down  in  the 
Black  Book  as  cowards  or  traitors.  If  the  Salernitans 
deemed  the  moment  ripe  for  a  revolt,  the  Neapolitans 
might  insist  on  a  delay.  We  wonder  how,  in  that  flux  of 
plot  and  counterplot,  any  trust  or  sincerity  remained  in 
men ;  for  the  conspirators  were  not  only  aware  that  tliey 
were  spied  upon  by  the  police,  but  tliey  were  also  vexed 
by  doubts  and  jealousies  among  themselves.  Brother 
could  not  be  sure  of  brother,  nor  father  of  son.  Judge 
distrusted  judge;  of  espial,  friend  distrusted  friend.  Even 
from  his  wife  a  man  was  not  safe :  his  confidences  miglit 
l)e  frightened  from  her  at  the  confessional  and  ])ass  u]) 
from  the  bisliop  to  the  director  of  ])<)liee.  Tlie  strongest 
oaths  seemed  weak,  tlie  most  tenil)h'  tlu-eats  seemed  mild 
to  conspirators  who  knew  that  their  lives  liung  on  tlie 
honor  of  their  associates. 

Many  of  these  defects  were  inse})aral)le  from  any  wide- 


210  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

spread  political  conspiracy;  others  were  traceable  to  that 
heirloom  of  local  feuds  peculiar  to  the  Italians;  while 
others  arose  from  inexperience  in  self-control  and  from 
an  imperfect  estimate  of  the  amount  of  education  that 
would  be  necessary  to  fit  the  great  mass  of  the  Italian 
people  to  govern  themselves.  The  political  dusk  swarmed 
with  the  glittering  maxims  of  the  French  Revolution  about 
the  "rights  of  man,"  "liberty,"  "equality,"  and  "fra- 
ternity," as  a  June  night  swarms  with  fireflies:  and  it  was 
still  the  fashion  to  believe  that  a  race  could  be  regener- 
ated by  manifesto  and  voted  into  indejoendence  by  a  show 
of  hands.  But  there  were  Italians  of  Liberal  cast  who 
held  aloof  from  the  sects,  either  because  they  preferred 
to  sail  by  the  Pole-star  rather  than  by  fireflies,  —  and 
the  Pole-star  was  still  wrapt  in  clouds ;  or  because  they 
scrupled  to  become  accomplices  in  violent  deeds  which 
they  felt  could  not  advance  the  patriotic  cause.  This 
sense  of  futility  or  dread  of  criminality  withheld  many ; 
others,  made  languid  by  the  turmoil  of  the  past  twenty- 
five  years,  craved  repose.  They  would  have  chosen  lib- 
erty, but  they  were  too  dispirited,  or  too  weary,  to  fight 
for  it.  "And  what,  after  all,  has  fighting  profited  us?" 
they  asked.  "Torment  us  no  worse  with  bright  but  un- 
realizable dreams.  We  can  at  least  end  our  days  unmo- 
lested if  we  do  not  meddle  with  the  forbidden  toi)ic's." 
Against  this  inertia  of  fatalism  also,  the  conspirators  had 
to  contend. 

Whilst  they  were  making  proselytes  in  large  numbers 
and  revolving  terrific  plans,  Metternich  was  cautiously 
dredging  for  information.  Not  content  with  the  news 
supplied  him  by  the  local  ministers  of  police,  he  sent  liis 
own  agents  into  Italy.  They  reported  that  tlie  dissatis- 
faction was  due  partly  to  natural  causes,  —  a  failure  of 
cro])s  in  1816  having  been  followed  by  an  epidemic  of 
ty])hus  fever,  — and  partly  "to  the  results  of  the  conquest, 
which  by  overthrowing  political  order  had   shattered  the 


CONSPIRACIES.  211 

foundations  of  the  public  welfare."^  The  Chancellor 
himself  made  a  triumphal  journey  through  the  Peninsula 
in  1817,  where  he  divided  his  time  between  courtly  enter- 
tainments and  secret  investigations,  and  was  able  to  assure 
his  Emperor  that,  although  the  existence  of  the  sects  could 
not  be  denied,  and  although  their  purpose  conflicted  with 
Austrian  principles,  yet  they  had  failed  "to  enlist  leaders 
of  name  and  character,"  and  lacked  "central  guidance 
and  all  other  means  of  organizing  revolutionary  action." 
"  In  design  and  principle  divided  among  themselves,  these 
sects  change  every  day,"  he  added,  "and  on  the  morrow 
they  may  be  ready  to  fight  against  one  another.  The 
surest  method  of  preventing  anyone  of  them  from  becom- 
ing too  powerful  is  to  leave  these  sects  to  themselves. 
Yet  we  must  not  look  with  indifference  on  such  a  mass  of 
individuals,  who,  more  or  less  adv^ersaries  of  the  existing 
order  of  things,  may  easily  be  led  to  disturb  the  i)ublic 
])eace,  especially  if  it  is  ever  united  by  the  alluring  pre- 
text of  Italian  independence.  England  has  for  the  mo- 
ment relinquished  these  chimeras,  and  since  she  gave  her 
consent  to  the  union  of  Genoa  with  l^iedmont,  and  the 
withdrawal  of  the  Bcntinck  Constitution  in  Sicily,  she 
has  almost  entirely  lost  the  confidence  of  the  Indepen- 
dents."^ Nevertheless,  Mctternich  thouglit  he  discerned 
signs  of  foreign  connivance  in  the  activity  of  the  ])lotters. 
He  suspected  tliat  Kussian  emissaries  wci-e  fanning  dis- 
content against  Austria,  and  were  encouraging  Liberal 
dreams,  in  the  hope  that  Russia  might  secure,  were  the 
revolution  successful,  one  of  the  Italian  ports  for  her 
navy.  But  whatever  hi;  suspected,  Mctternich  was  not 
alarmed;  he  believed  that  neither  fi-oiu  within  nor  from 
without  could  any  f<)rce  there  be  massed  sti'ong  enough 
to  endanger  Austria's  ])osition  in  Italy:  and  with  a  con- 
fident and  self-satislied  heart  he  went  to  direct  tlie  family 
gathering  of  the  European  monarciis  at  Aix-la-( 'hai)elle. 

'    MtjlU-rniili.  iii,  S'.t.  -   U,i,l.  iii,  W. 


212  THE   DAWN    OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

The  best  justification  of  Metternicli's  confidence  was 
furnished  by  the  conspirators  themselves.  That  they 
were  very  numerous,  that  they  were  "men  of  action," 
every  one  knew ;  but  what  had  they  accomplished  between 
1815  and  1820?  Nothing  that  the  eye  could  estimate. 
Sporadic  assassinations  and  incendiary  fires  were  imputed 
to  them,  but  not  an  exploit  indicative  either  of  courage  or 
of  foresight.  An  occasional  street-brawl,  hardly  worthy 
to  be  called  a  political  demonstration,  served  to  show  the 
weakness  of  the  plotters  and  the  rigor  of  the  police. 

There  was  a  little  affair  at  Macerata,  for  instance,  over 
which  the  Papal  authorities  might  well  chuckle.  It  was 
the  spring  of  1817.  The  aged  Pope  lay  very  ill,  not  ex- 
pected to  recover.  The  Carbonari  believed  that  in  the 
confusion  at  his  death  they  would  find  their  opportimity. 
They  agreed  upon  a  general  revolt,  took  every  precaution, 
and  laid  their  mines  in  all  directions.  The  outbreak  was 
to  begin  at  Macerata;  Bologna,  always  a  restless  city, 
was  ready  to  respond.  So  carefully  had  every  detail 
been  arranged  that  four  buckets  of  pitch  had  been  carried 
by  stealth  into  the  belfry  of  the  Macerata  cathedral  to  be 
lighted  at  the  appointed  time  as  a  signal  to  watchers  on 
the  hills  that  the  revolt  prospered;  and  these  watchers 
were  to  flash  the  news,  by  beacons  and  rockets,  over  all 
the  land.  A  free  government  was  to  be  set  up,  with 
Count  Gallo,  the  chief  conspirator,  as  consul.  Other 
offices  had  been  allotted  to  his  accomplices,  and  —  mark 
the  minuteness  of  the  preparation  —  it  was  agreed  that 
as  soon  as  the  revolutionists  had  Macerata  in  their  power, 
they  should  assemble  in  the  cathedral  for  a  ceremony  of 
thanksgiving  at  which  St.  Ambrose's  Hymn  was  to  be 
siuig.  The  roster  of  two  regiments,  one  of  cavalry  and 
one  of  infantry,  was  made  out,  the  pay  of  each  soldier 
being  fixed  at  five  pauls  a  day.  A  proclamation,  not 
lacking  exhortatory  eloquence,  was  printed.  "People 
of  the  Pontifical  States:"  it  began,  "When  it  is  God's 


CONSPIRACIES.  213 

will  to  punish  a  people,  He  gives  them  over  to  an  igno- 
rant government.  When  He  sees  them  aware  of  their 
error,  He  pours  courage  into  them,  and  bids  them  to 
shake  off  the  barbarous  yoke.  .  .  .  To  arms!  to  arms. 
Let  your  war-cry  be  love  of  country  and  charity  towards 
your  cliildren.  To  overthrow  tyrants,  to  tax  the  rich,  and 
to  rush  to  the  assistance  of  the  needy,  —  be  that  your 
aim.  Already  is  History  busy  preparing  a  place  for  you 
among  her  heroes."  Thus  was  every  spring  set:  but  the 
Pope  would  not  die,  and  the  conspirators,  becoming  im- 
patient, resolved  to  strike  at  all  hazards.  On  the  night 
of  June  24,  just  as  they  were  collecting  for  action,  a 
squad  of  carabineers  hai)pened  to  bear  down  upon  them. 
Believing  that  they  were  betrayed,  they  scampered  hither 
and  thither  for  their  lives.  The  watchers  on  the  hilltops 
saw  no  beacon,  till  the  great  torch  of  day  rose  again  out 
of  the  Adriatic  and  announced  that  the  plot  had  failed. 
The  Hymn  of  St.  Ambrose  was  not  sung  that  morn- 
ing in  the  minster,  but  four  suspicious  buckets  of  ])itch 
were  found  in  the  belfry.  Count  (xallo  and  seven  of  his 
principal  confederates  made  good  their  escape.  A  few 
accessories  were  arrested  and  sentenced,  after  a  tedious 
trial,  to  the  galleys ;  the  ringleaders  were  condemned  to 
death  in  contumacy.  From  the  witnesses  examined,  the 
judge  learned  that  the  rebellious  sects  were  all  scions  of 
Freemasonry  and  tliat  their  purpose  was  to  secure  '•in- 
dependence, or  at  least  a  constitutional  government  I  "  ^ 

This  revolt  at  Macerata,  so  ignominiously  stiHed.  is  a 
specimen  of  all  the  ineffectiud  splutterings  of  conspirac}' 
(luring  those  five  years.  There  witc  arrests  at  a  l)all  at 
Kovigo,  arrests  after  a  feverish  si)asm  at  Rimini ;  the 
conspirators  at  Ravenna  concerted  a  rising  with  Ronia- 
gnoles,  but  at  the  last  nionieiit  tlie  RoMiagnoles  wavered. 
In  tlie  Neapolitan  provinces  an  exjtlosion  seemed  always 
imminent,  but  the  fuse  always  siuouldered  and  went  out. 

'   Carbonari  sinus.  14,  VA^siq.:    Vf<^'^\,\,   l.")7-S. 


214  THE   DAWN    OF   ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

Oftentimes  we  cannot  distinguish  between  the  Neapolitan 
conspirators  and  brigands.  Those  ferocious  Decisi,  for 
example,  who  sent  death-warrants  underscored  with 
blood  to  their  proposed  victims,  had  not  patriotism  but 
plunder  in  view,  if  we  are  to  believe  their  enemies.  They 
ravaged  the  provinces  of  Bari  and  Otranto  until  put 
down  by  General  Church,  who  executed  above  a  hun- 
dred of  them  and  stuck  their  heads  on  the  gates  of  the 
towns  they  had  despoiled.^  The  conspirators  grew  more 
wary,  the  police  more  alert.  Ferdinand  issued  a  proc- 
lamation prohibiting  all  secret  sects,  and  threatening 
their  chiefs  with  death. ^  The  Pope  launched  a  bull  of 
similar  import,  in  which  he  especially  charged  the  Carbo- 
nari with  irreligion,  on  account  of  their  assertion  of  free- 
dom of  conscience  in  matters  of  belief ;  but  the  Carbonari 
treated  this  fulmination  as  they  had  treated  an  earlier 
one  in  1814,  when  they  asked:  "Was  not  the  Christian 
Church  from  its  origin  until  Constantine's  victory  over 
Maxentius  a  secret  society?"  They  waxed  numerous  in 
spite  of  failures  and  repression,  so  that  by  1820  their 
membership  was  reckoned  at  nearly  three  quarters  of  a 
million.^  If  their  achievements  were  indeed  trivial,  it 
must  be  remembered  that  they  had  to  contend  against  the 
inevitable  defects  of  their  organism,  not  less  than  against 
their  outward  foes.  They  hesitated  and  postponed ;  they 
began  to  wait  on  Chance,  — the  death  of  king  or  pope, 
the  embarrassment  of  a  cabinet,  the  sudden  exasperation 
of  the  populace,  or  the  prospect  of  a  foreign  war,  —  be- 
fore firing  their  train.  But  they  did  not  abandon  their  de- 
termination ;  on  the  contrary,  time  and  delays  only  rooted 
it  deeper  in  their  hearts.  Five  years  had  almost  elapsed 
since  the  restoration  of  the  Old  Regime,  when  sparks 
blown  over  sea  from  Spain  dropped  among  the  powder- 
kegs  of  Italy,  and  set  off  the  long-expected  revolution. 

^  Carbonarisimis,  120.  -  Aug.  8,  181(5;   text  in  Turotti,  i,  464-0. 

^  In  1818  the  minor  sects  —  Decisi,  Filautropi,  and  Filadelfi  —  were  said 
to  number  2i),l)00  membors. 


CHAPTER    V. 

NAPLES   IN    REVOLUTION,  1820. 

We  are  wrapt  about  with  an  aether  more  wonderful 
than  the  atmosphere  in  whose  depths  we  live;  a  spiritual 
aether  which  communicates  messages  from  times  and  places 
most  remote,  and  makes  of  the  world  a  whispering  gal- 
lery; which  has  its  trade -winds  and  its  tornadoes,  its 
lightnings  and  its  auroral  calms.  No  cry  of  distress 
breathed  upon  this  subtler  element  is  lost,  but  it  circles 
earth  till  it  finds  a  listener ;  deeds  good  or  evil  are  sown 
in  it,  and  are  borne  like  pollen  up  and  down  the  fallow 
field  of  years,  till  at  last  they  fructify  and  bring  forth 
harvests  of  wheat  or  tares,  each  after  its  kind.  This 
aether  it  is  which  binds  men  and  nations  together  in  a 
solidarity,  invisible  and  subtle,  but  broad  as  earth  and 
durable  as  time. 

But  for  this  mysterious  transmitter  it  would  concern 
us  but  little  to  know  that  in  the  year  1819  the  r/uachos  of 
the  River  Plata  were  struggling  to  free  themselves  from 
Spain,  and  that  the  S])anish  government  had  collected 
troops  to  shi])  to  the  insurgent  colony.  But  on  X(>w 
Year's  Day,  1820,  Ra])hael  Riego,  wlio  commanded  a  bat- 
talion in  the  village  of  Las  Cabezas  de  San  Juan,  having 
revolved  in  liis  mind  tlie  injustice  of  liclpingan  Absolutist 
king  to  crusli  Americans  struggling  for  freedom,  and  hav- 
ing listened  to  the  voice  of  his  own  jiatriotism,  drew  u\)  his 
troops,  and  proclaimed  to  tlicni  the  Spanish  C\)nstitution 
of  1812.  In  an  instant  enthusiasm  seized  the  soldiei-s; 
then;  was  no  more  talk  of  einl)arking,  for  the  l)attalion, 
which  others  soon   joined,   pressed  on   to  ea})ture   Cadiz. 


216  THE   DAWN   OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

The  news  of  the  mutiny  spread  from  province  to  prov- 
ince, gaining  volume,  as  it  flew:  when  it  reached  Ma- 
drid, the  cowardly  and  treacherous  King,  bent  only  on 
saving  his  throne,  granted  the  Constitution.  Europe  was 
surprised  at  the  suddenness  and  success  of  the  revolt. 
The  Absolute  monarchs  and  the  oligarchy  of  ministers 
who  then  farmed  the  Continent  for  their  personal  benefit 
were  frightened;  for  the  preservation  of  their  tyranny 
depended  on  the  fidelity  of  the  army,  and  here  was  an 
army  which  had  been  the  first  to  rebel,  and  which  had 
forced  its  sovereign  to  yield.  Where  might  not  another 
Eiego  spring  up?     What  troops  could  be  trusted? 

To  the  people  of  Europe  these  tidings  brought  hopes 
as  great  as  the  alarm  of  their  rulers.  To  the  Neapolitans 
it  seemed  that  the  hour  of  their  redemption  had  struck. 
Their  King,  as  Infanta  of  Spain,  must  swear  to  the  Con- 
stitution adopted  in  Spain;  having  sworn,  how  could  he 
object  to  the  promulgation  of  the  same  Constitution  in  his 
own  dominions?  The  hour  had  indeed  struck,  but  the 
man  was  wanting;  Liberals  and  Carbonari  discussed  a 
thousand  plans,  as  if  out  of  the  Babel  of  sound  a  strong 
sane  deed  would  emerge.  The  government,  aware  of  the 
growing  agitation,  but  not  yet  terrified,  proposed  a  few 
mild  reforms  by  way  of  sedative.  The  membership  of 
the  Chancellory  was  to  be  increased  to  sixty,  thirty  to  be 
elected  by  provincial  councils,  and  thirty  to  be  appointed 
by  the  King :  they  to  pass  votes  on  legislative  matters, 
and  to  hold  public  sessions.  It  happened,  also,  that  about 
this  time  the  King  held  a  review  of  the  army  in  the 
plain  of  Sessa, — he  was  preparing,  it  was  said,  to  join 
Austria  in  seizing  the  Legations  and  the  Marches  on  the 
death  of  the  Pope,^  —  and  the  agitators  looked  to  this  as 
a  fitting  occasion  for  a  military  mutiny.  But  the  review 
passed  off  undisturbed,  although  it  afforded  the  Carbo- 
nari the  best  opportunity  to  make  converts  and  to  circu- 
1  Colletta,  ii,  324. 


NAPLES   IN    REVOLUTION.  217 

late  their  doctrines  from  regiment  to  regiment.  The 
camp  broke  up  about  the  middle  of  May,  and  almost  im- 
mediately the  revolutionary  symptoms  became  acute  in 
the  province  of  Avcllino,  where  the  regular  troops  were 
commanded  by  General  William  Pepe,  and  where  many 
Carbonari  from  Salerno  and  other  districts  had  assem- 
bled. Pepe  was  a  Liberal  and  a  Carbonaro,  but  he  hesi- 
tated to  proclaim  himself.  So  an  humbler  hand  fired  the 
train. 

There  was  stationed  at  Nola  the  Bourbon  regiment  of 
cavalry,  lax  in  discipline,  owing  to  the  neglect  of  its 
colonel,  who  passed  his  time  in  dissipation  at  Naples. 
On  June  20  he  was  superseded  by  a  commander  of 
sterner  type,  who  forbade  his  subordinates  to  cpiit  the 
barracks  after  nightfall.  The  officers  grumbled,  and 
talked  over  their  grievance  with  some  Carbonari  of  the 
town,  among  others  with  one  Menichini,  a  priest.  lie 
advised  them  to  gather  the  malecontents  of  the  regiment, 
to  proclaim  the  Constitution,  and  to  march  to  Avellino, 
where  the  sectaries  would  welcome  them.  His  advice 
hit  true.  At  daybreak  on  the  2d  of  July  two  sub-lieu- 
tenants, Morelli  and  Silvati,  with  127  mutineers,  inclu- 
ding soldiers  and  subalterns,  deserted  from  their  cpiarters 
and  took  the  road  eastward.  On  they  wont,  slioiitiiig, 
"For  God,  the  King,  and  the  Constitution,"  on  the  still 
morning  air,  as  thoughtless  and  jubilant  as  l)<)ys  l)r()keu 
loose  from  school.  They  wakened  tlie  villages  as  they 
])assed,  and  })easants  just  going  afield  and  to\vns[)eo})le 
half-dressed  thronged  after  them  and  shouted,  "  Fi)r  (iod, 
the  King,  and  the  Constitution."  At  Mereogliano.  about 
a  league  fronx  Avellino,  ]Morelli  halted  and  disj)atehe(l  a 
note  to  Colonel  De  Coneili,  who  eoniinaiided  the  regular 
troops  in  Pepes  absence.  \\  ould  lie  join  the  })ati'lotie 
cause,  and  free  his  country?  De  Concilis  heart  was  with 
the  revolutionists,  but  he  was  restrained  by  ])ru(lence;  he 
nuist  wait  for  Pepe's  orders  bcfoie  giving  his  decision. 


218  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

Meanwhile,  news  of  the  mutiny  had  startled  Naples. 
The  King  was  out  in  the  bay  on  his  royal  barge,  and 
when  a  messenger  reached  him,  his  first  impidse  was  to 
put  to  sea  and  stay  there  till  the  trouble  should  be 
quelled ;  ^  but  on  second  thoughts  he  decided  to  return  to 
the  palace.  Before  he  came  the  ministers  met  to  concert 
instant  measures.  General  Nugent  in  a  council  of  war 
proposed  to  send  Pepe  to  pacify  the  insurgent  province. 
Pepe  accepted  the  commission,  but  he  had  not  had  time 
to  set  out  from  the  capital  before  his  orders  were  coun- 
termanded: the  King  and  his  councilors  suspected  his 
loyalty  and  disliked  him  for  having  been  a  Muratist. 
Finally,  they  gave  the  charge  to  General  Carrascosa. 
Through  these  delays  a  day  was  lost  during  which  the 
insurrection  swept  on.  By  nightfall  not  only  the  prov- 
ince of  Principato  Ultra,  but  parts  of  Principato  Citra 
and  Capitanata  were  in  commotion,  and  De  Concili,  no 
longer  doubtful,  cast  in  his  lot  with  the  revolters.  Amid 
acclamations  and  brotherly  greetings,  Morelli  with  his 
band  of  original  mutineers  entered  Avellino,  and  in  the 
cathedral,  with  the  blessing  of  the  bishop)  and  the  huzzas 
of  the  multitude,  he  resigned  his  authority  into  the  hands 
of  De  Concili.  The  stars  that  night  looked  upon  sleep- 
less villages  and  noisy  towns;  black,  red,  and  blue  ban- 
ners were  unfurled,  tricolored  ribbons  and  cockades  were 
hastily  sewn  on  coats  and  hats,  there  were  many  ha- 
rangues, many  huzzas  for  God,  King,  and  Constitution, 
but  no  serious  disorder,  no  bloodshed. 

Fate  pays  the  suspicious  and  deceitful  in  tlieir  own 
coin.  Ferdinand,  whose  whole  life  had  been  2)erfidious, 
was  now  in  his  desperate  need  perplexed  in  whom  to 
confide.  Pie  no  longer  could  distinguish  between  loyalty 
and  deceit.  His  ministers  had  hidden  from  him  the 
dangerous  condition  of  the  kingdom;  now  that  ho  knew 
the  truth,  how  could  he  trust  them?  What  general  could 
1  Colletta,  ii,  329. 


NAPLES   IN    REVOLUTION.  219 

he  believe  in?  Nevertheless,  something  must  be  done, 
and  done  at  once.  On  July  3  Carrascosa  appeared  in 
Nola  only  to  find  there  too  few  troops  to  justify  him  in 
attacking  the  insurgents,  who  had  taken  up  a  strong 
position  at  Monteforte,  near  Avellino.  In  lieu  of  fight- 
ing, he  projMJsed  to  buy  off  the  leaders  of  the  revolt, 
offering  to  give  them,  besides  a  large  sum  in  cash,  a  safe 
conduct  out  of  the  kingdom,  — truly,  a  Bourbon  expedi- 
ent. But  he  could  get  no  one  to  conduct  the  negotia- 
tion. So  he  lay  idle  in  Nola,  waiting  for  reinforcements, 
whilst  the  enemy's  camp  was  being  hourly  swelled.  Yet 
within  easy  marching  distance  were  General  Nunziante 
at  Nocera  and  General  Campana  at  Salerno.  Why  did 
not  the  three  imite  their  forces,  and  strike  the  rebels 
while  there  was  still  time?  Because  the  King  would  not 
give  the  order;  he  feared  that  if  they  luiited  they  would 
desert.  On  the  4th  Campana  marched  towards  Avellino, 
met  a  body  of  insurgents  midway,  indidged  in  an  incon- 
clusive skirmish,  and  then  retreated.  On  the  5th  Nun- 
ziante, likewise  unsupported,  set  out;  but  ibefore  ever 
they  came  in  sight  of  the  enemy,  his  soldiers  deserted  in 
sucli  numbers  that  he  returned  hastily  to  Nocera  with  tlie 
few  that  remained  loyal.  That  evening  he  dis})at('hed  a 
note  to  the  King;  "Sire,  your  peoi)le  desire  the  Consti- 
tution ;  opposition  is  vain.  I  entreat  your  majesty  to 
yield." 

This  a])peal  but  confinned  the  fears  which  the  reports 
of  tlie  last  few  days  had  heaped  u\mn  Fcnliuand  and  his 
ministers.  At  Foggia  a  regiment  had  nuitinicd ;  Apu- 
lia and  Molisc  had  risen:  Terra  di  Lavoro  was  seething. 
It  was  too  s()(jn  for  couriers  to  arrive  from  the  remoter 
Abruz/i  and  Cahibria,  but  there  eoukl  be  no  d()ul»t  that 
those  ])rovinees  also  were  up  in  arms.  This  very  night 
(July  T))  Pe))e,  fearful  of  ancst,  had  ridcU'U  out  of 
Na])les,  followed  by  a  regiment  of  cavalry  and  several 
companies  of  infantry,  all  bound  for  Montefoite.      If  the 


220  THE   DAWN    OF   ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

King,  cherished  any  delusions  as  to  the  situation,  they 
were  soon  dispelled.  Five  Carbonari  pressed  into  the 
palace,  declaring  that  they  came  as  ambassadors  from 
the  people  to  speak  with  the  King.  The  Duke  of  Ascoli 
heard  their  business,  went  to  Ferdinand's  apartment, 
and  quickly  brought  back  this  reply:  "His  Majesty, 
having  learned  the  wishes  of  his  subjects,  and  having 
already  decided  to  grant  a  constitution,  is  now  consulting 
with  his  ministers  upon  its  just  limits."  "When  will  it 
be  published?"  asked  one  of  the  delegates.  "In  two 
hours,"  replied  the  Duke.  The  delegate  pulled  the 
Duke's  watch  from  his  pocket.  "It  is  now  one  o'clock," 
he  said  insolently;  "at  three  the  Constitution  must  be 
published."     Then  the  interview  ended. ^ 

By  daybreak  (July  6)  the  following  edict  was  issued 
by  Ferdinand:  "The  general  desire  of  the  Kingdom  of 
the  Two  Sicilies  being  manifested  in  favor  of  a  constitu- 
tional government,  of  our  own  free  will  we  consent,  and 
we  promise  to  publish  the  bases  thereof  within  eight  days. 
Until  the  publication  of  the  Constitution  the  existing 
laws  will  be  in  force.  Having  thus  satisfied  the  public 
desire,  we  order  the  troops  to  return  to  their  corps,  and 
every  other  subject  to  his  ordinary  occupations."^ 

Whilst  the  Neapolitans  that  morning  gave  themselves 
up  to  jubilation,  messengers  were  hurrying  eastward  with 
copies  of  the  edict  for  the  rival  camps  commanded  by  Car- 
rascosa  and  Pepe.  The  latter,  on  reaching  Monteforte, 
had  himself  dra^vn  up  a  proclamation  in  which  he  ex- 
horted the  insurgents  to  persist  in  their  revolt  until  they 
secured  a  constitution  for  their  country,  and  he  promised 
to  resign  his  command  as  soon  as  that  victory  should  be 
won.  The  joyful  tidings  put  a  stop  to  impending  hostil- 
ities. Both  armies  fraternized,  and  congratulated  each 
other  on  a  revolt  equally  dear  to  each,  and  when  Carras- 
cosa  led  his  troops  back  to  Naples  that  evening  he  found 
1  Colletta,  ii,  336.  ^  Turotti,  i,  587. 


NAPLES    IN    REVOLUTION.  221 

the  streets  illuminated  and  festooned,  and  the  popidaee 
singing  patriotic  hymns  and  shouting  patriotic  watch- 
words. Thus  in  four  days  had  the  Neapolitan  people,  so 
excitable,  so  little  acquainted  with  self-control  or  public 
law,  achieved  a  bloodless  revolution.  A  wiser  people 
would  have  been  distrustful  of  the  ease  and  suddenness  of 
their  success,  but  the  Neapolitans,  unversed  in  the  diffi- 
culties of  self-government  and  unaware  that  the  best  con- 
stitution is  but  printer's  ink  and  paper  unless  a  nation  is 
fitted  to  abide  by  it,  supposed  that  they  had  passed  their 
ordeal,  and  could  count  upon  a  future  of  endless  felicity. 
Prince  People  having  wedded  Princess  Constitution,  of 
course  they  would  live  happily  ever  after  —  as  all  fairy 
tales  announce. 

The  King  on  that  same  day  (July  G),  as  a  handsel  of 
his  good  intentions,  appointed  a  new  ministry,  but  he 
also  issued  a  suspicious  decree  in  which  he  nominated  his 
son  Francis,  Duke  of  Calabria,  regent  with  full  power; 
assigning  as  a  reason  his  own  infirmity,  which  he  feared 
might  prevent  him  from  performing  his  duties  "in  a 
manner  acceptable  to  God."  At  this  the  populace  took 
alarm.  Bands  of  Carbonari  went  up  and  down  the 
streets  shouting  for  the  Spanish  Constitution;  others 
guarded  the  ships  in  the  harbor  lest  Ferdinand  sliould 
sneak  away.  The  Regent,  to  allay  suspicions,  put  fortli 
a  decree  (July  7),  in  which  he  j)ledged  that  the  Spanish 
Constitution,  only  amended  in  so  far  as  the  ditVcreut 
conditions  of  Spain  and  Naples  might  make  emendation 
necessary,  should  be  granted;  but  the  people  were  still 
suspicious,  because  this  decree  was  not  signed  by  the 
King.  Tlicn  appeared  a  proclamation  from  Ferdinand 
himself,  ratifying  all  his  son's  acts;  and  the  ])opular 
murnuirs  evaporated  in  cheers.  The  ordinary  business  of 
the  capital  was  resumed,  and,  amid  rejoicings  and  lioj)e- 
fulness,  tlie  ])ublieation  of  the  Constitution  was  a\vaite«l. 

Pept!  in  his  camp  at  Monteforte  now  deemed  the  time 


222  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

ripe  for  a  demonstration  of  the  strength  of  the  Constitu- 
tionalists, who  but  last  week  had  been  called  by  harsher 
names.  He  proposed  that  with  all  his  forces  he  should 
make  a  triumphal  entry  into  Naples,  as  a  sign  of  the 
patriotic  and  peaceful  intentions  of  the  late  insurgents, 
and  as  evidence  of  the  prevailing  concord.  King  and 
Kegent  demurred ;  they  loved  their  dear  subjects,  but  at 
a  distance ;  they  feared  some  subterfuge ;  the}'  disliked  to 
see  Pepe  in  the  position  of  acknowledged  leader  of  thou- 
sands of  armed  men,  who,  at  a  wink  from  him,  might 
seize  the  reins  of  power.  What  if  he  should  be  overcome 
by  ambition,  and  play  Cromwell's  part?  But,  on  the 
other  hand,  how  could  he  be  kept  out  of  the  city,  if  in 
spite  of  royal  refusal  he  persisted  in  entering  it?  To 
close  the  gates  upon  him  would  precipitate  a  civil  war,  in 
which  the  King  could  rely  upon  neither  his  soldiers  nor 
his  citizens.  Discretion  and  fear  argued  that  there  was 
less  risk  in  consenting  than  in  forbidding ;  accordingly, 
the  9th  of  July  was  fixed  for  the  triumphal  entry.  Wild 
rumors  and  gloomy  apprehension  flew  about.  It  was  said 
that  the  lawless  classes  would  seize  this  opportunity  for 
plunder,  —  that  the  Royalists  were  concocting  a  treacher- 
ous scheme,  —  that  the  Carbonari  would  imprison  the 
royal  family  and  proclaim  the  liepublic.  No  suggestion 
was  too  extravagant  to  gain  credence  at  a  time  when  all 
classes  were  uncertain  of  themselves,  and  when  many 
feared  the  worst  results.  To  inspire  a  little  confidence, 
a  Junta  of  fifteen  members,  chosen  in  the  camp  and 
approved  by  the  Regent,  was  provisionally  organized  to 
help  in  preserving  order  until  the  convocation  of  Parlia- 
ment. 

Amid  this  excitement  the  dreaded  day  broke.  Into  the 
city  the  Constitutionalist  forces  poured,  and  long  before 
the  head  of  the  column  marched  into  the  square  in  front 
of  the  palace,  the  Regent  was  warned  of  its  approach  l)y 
the  cheers  of  the  crowds.      jNIorelli  and  Silvati,  with  the 


NAPLES    IN    REVOLUTION.  223 

original  company  of  deserters  (now  glorified  as  "the  Sa- 
cred Squadron  "),  led  the  van;  then  on  horseback  between 
Generals  Naj)oletano  and  De  Concili  rode  Pepe,  his  jaunty 
elegance  reminding  some  of  the  bystanders  of  his  former 
chief,  Murat ;  then  followed  regiments  of  regulars,  a  little 
sheepish,  despite  the  bravado  with  which  they  wished  to 
have  their  late  mutiny  forgotten.  When  the  militia  ap- 
peared, the  shouts  grew  louder  and  heartier.  Finally  a 
promiscuous  band  of  Carbonari  brought  up  the  rear; 
Menichini,  the  priest,  was  at  their  head,  his  scholar's 
face,  wide-rimmed  spectacles,  and  clerical  garb,  comport- 
ing strangely  with  the  Carbonaro  flag  he  waved  and  with 
the  Carbonaro  emblems  which  dangled  against  the  cross 
on  his  breast.  But  that  day  was  a  feast  of  paradoxes. 
Did  not  the  Kegent  on  the  palace  balcony,  surrounded 
by  his  minist(!rs  and  his  Junta,  i)in  the  Carbonaro  ribbons 
upon  his  coat,  and  applaud  the  Constitutionalists,  as  they 
passed  in  review  beneath  liim?  And  later  in  the  day, 
when  tlie  soldiers  liad  retired  to  their  quarters  and  the 
throngs  had  dispersed  to  the  tap-rooms  and  cafes,  did  he 
not  graciously  receive  Pepe  and  his  generals  ? 

A  strange  audience  that,  in  which  Pepe,  wlio  but  four 
days  since  stood  in  danger  of  arrest,  was  thanked  by  the 
Kegent  for  his  patriotism,  and  was  promoted  to  be  com- 
mander-in-chief of  the  army.  Pe})e  explained  that  his 
work  had  been  not  to  foment  tlie  revohition  but  to  h'ad 
it  along  guiltless  ])aths,  and  to  ]>revent  acts  wlilcli  might 
harm  both  the  throne  and  the  country.  ^lutual  conipli- 
ments  having  been  })ass('(l,  the  new  hero  was  eoncbictfd 
into  the  King's  bed-chamber,  where  Ferdinand  Liv  in 
bed, — sick  or  sliamming.  Pepe  knelt,  and  kissed  the 
wrinkled  perfidious  liand.  '*  You  liav(!  done  good  service 
to  me  and  the  nation,"'  said  the  monarch:  " theri'foi-e.  1 
•doubly  thank  you  and  yours.  Assume  sui)reme  coiuuiand 
of  the;  ai'my  to  eomph-te  this  enterprise  of  holv  jx'ace, 
wliirh  will  so  lionor  the  Neapolitans.     I  would  have  given 


224  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

the  Constitution  earlier,  if  the  utility  or  the  general  desire 
had  been  made  known  to  me.  I  thank  Almighty  God 
that  He  has  granted  to  my  old  age  to  do  a  great  good  to 
my  realm."  ^  Thus  honored  by  the  esteem  of  his  sover- 
eign, Pepe  retired,  the  foremost  subject  in  the  kingdom. 
But  his  elevation  made  him  a  target  for  envy.  The  older 
generals,  over  whom  he  had  been  promoted,  were  piqued ; 
Bourbonists  muttered,  as  was  their  habit,  against  the  ad- 
vancement of  an  ex-Muratist;  the  more  audacious  con- 
spirators, who  had  forced  the  crisis,  were  nettled  to  see 
him  made  the  hero  who  had  hesitated  to  join  them  until 
success  was  certain ;  many  predicted  that  he  would  hence- 
forth be  a  partisan  of  the  King  rather  than  of  the  people. 
These  suspicions  were  for  the  most  part  unjust :  if  Pepe 
nursed  a  secret  ambition,  he  lacked  the  dauntlessness  and 
judgment  to  gratify  it;  his  acts,  so  far  as  we  know  them, 
were  centred  in  the  support  of  the  Constitution.  That 
he  was  so  soon  stung  by  envious  or  calumnious  tongues, 
indicated  the  fatal  fickleness  and  the  disunion  of  the  rev- 
olutionary party.  They  paid  allegiance  to  no  single 
leader,  but  to  a  hundred.  Each  clique  had  its  pet  scheme, 
its  loudest  haranguer,  and  it  suspected  all  the  rest.  The 
irremediable  defects  in  the  Carbonaro  organization  —  the 
lack  of  a  head  and  of  a  general  definite  policy  —  were 
now  manifest;  and  it  would  soon  be  proved  that  no  secret 
society  can  fit  a  people  to  maintain  a  popular  government. 
But  the  Neapolitans  did  not  yet  surmise  whither  back- 
biting and  dissension  were  leading  them.  They  had  not 
yet  recovered  from  their  astonishment  at  the  ease  with 
which  they  had  won  their  first  battle,  and  their  very  ebul- 
litions seemed  to  them  to  prove  their  strength.  On  July 
13  they  believed  that  their  victory  was  complete,  for  the 
news  came  to  them  that  the  King  had  just  ratified  the 
Constitvition.  In  the  royal  chapel  he  heard  mass,  and« 
then  in  the  presence  of  his  Court,  the  Junta,  and  the 

1  Turotti,  i,  601. 


NAPLES    IN    REVOLUTION.  225 

generals,  he  approached  the  altar,  and  laying  his  hand 
on  the  Bible,  he  solemnly  swore:  "I,  Ferdinand  of  Bour- 
bon, by  the  grace  of  God  and  by  the  Constitution  of  the 
Neajjolitan  monarchy.  King  of  the  Two  Sicilies,  with  the 
name  of  Ferdinand  I,  swear  in  the  name  of  God  and  on 
the  Holy  Evangelists  that  I  will  defend  and  preserve  the 
Constitution.  Should  I  act  contrary  to  my  oath  and  con- 
trary to  any  article  in  this  Constitution,  I  ought  not  to  be 
obeyed ;  and  every  act  by  which  I  contravened  it  would 
be  null  and  void.  Thus  doing,  may  God  aid  and  protect 
me,  otherwise  may  He  call  me  to  account."  Then,  up- 
lifting his  eyes  he  uttered  this  brief  prayer:  "Omnipo- 
tent God,  who  with  Thine  infinite  gaze  readest  the  soul 
and  the  future,  —  if  I  lie  or  intend  to  break  this  oath,  do 
Thou  at  this  instant  hurl  on  my  head  the  lightnings  of 
Thy  vengeance."  Again  he  kissed  the  Holy  Book,  and, 
turning  to  Pepe,  who  stood  near,  he  said  meekly:  "Gen- 
eral, believe  me,  this  time  I  have  sworn  from  the  bottom 
of  my  heart."  ^  The  Regent  and  his  brother,  the  Prince 
of  Salerno,  next  took  the  oath,  and  were  embraced  and 
blessed  by  their  father,  while  tears  of  emotion  ran  down 
their  cheeks.  The  faculty  of  simulation,  transmitted  and 
perfected  through  many  generations,  made  these  Bourbons 
the  l)est  royal  actors  in  the  world. 

Popular  enthusiasm  exulted  over  this  impressive  act. 
All  were  willing  to  believe  in  the  King's  sincerity,  be- 
cause all  hoped  that  the  King  would  be  sincere;  and  even 
those  Avho  had  no  reverence  for  the  Bible  tliought  it  was 
sacred  enough  to  bind  his  oath.  The  Carbonari  ()])enly 
enjoyed  the  prestiges  of  having  eman('i})ated  the  nation. 
Their  guard  in  miifonn  })ara(l(Ml  tlie  streets;  their  orators 
thrilled  eager  crowds  in  the  ]»ublie  s(juares.  Everybody 
made  haste  to  enroll  liiniself  in  an  order  so  powerful  and 
so  popular.  Evei-y  niessrooni.  every  magistracy,  every 
convent,  had  its  rcndifd;   nobles  and  beggars  exchanged 


226  THE    DAWN    OF   ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

the  secret  grip  and  mystic  watchwords.  And  when  the 
Order  asked  permission,  to  celebrate  its  triumph,  the 
government  dared  not  refuse.  Priests  with  rosaries  and 
poniards  at  their  belts  and  tricolor  banners  in  their  hands 
led  the  procession ;  and  another  priest  blessed  the  con- 
course when  it  assembled  in  church.  In  a  time  so  unset- 
tled there  were  of  course  evilly-disposed  persons  who  tried 
to  mask  their  criminal  plans  under  the  shadow  of  the 
Order;  there  were  also  sectaries  who  conspired  to  over- 
throw the  government  and  set  up  a  republic;  but  the 
designs  of  both  fell  short.  A  few  sporadic  cases  of  tur- 
bulence were  quickly  checked  in  the  provinces,  while  in 
the  capital  even  the  lazzaroni,  that  large  body  of  habit- 
ual loafers  and  potential  law-breakers,  remained  docile. 
There  was,  indeed,  much  cackling  from  newly-hatched 
journalists,  but  it  is  the  silent  swooping  old  birds  and 
not  the  unfledged  that  are  to  be  feared.  It  seemed  as  if 
the  nation  had  jciven  bonds  for  jjood  behavior  until  the 
Parliament  should  convene  on  the  first  of  October;  and 
credit  is  undoubtedly  due  to  the  Carbonari  for  the  gener- 
ally tranquil  condition.  It  is  a  hostile  critic,  and  not  a 
Carbonaro,  who  is  forced  to  admit  that  through  the  exer- 
tions of  the  Order  "malefactors  disappeared  from  the 
country,  and  that  the  public  service '' received  a  great  im- 
pulsion "from  the  same  source."'^ 

While  the  revolution  was  thus  spreading  without  vio- 
lence over  the  mainland,  far  different  scenes  were  enact- 
ing in  Sicily.  The  islanders  hated  the  Act  of  Union  of 
1816 ;  they  hated  the  stamp  tax  and  the  autocratic  laws ; 
they  hated  the  presence  of  Neapolitan  garrisons;  they 
hated  to  see  Sicily  the  subject  instead  of  the  peer  of 
Naples.  Each  class,  each  province,  had  its  grievance. 
The  old  nobility,  the  barons,  chafed  at  their  loss  of  power; 
Palermo  resented  being  degraded  to  an  equality  with  the 
other  six  capitals  of  the  vaU'i  or  districts  into  which  the 

'  Carrascosa.  quoted  by  Pept^ ;    Memorie  (Paris,  1S4T),  ii,  26. 


NAPLES   IN    REVOLUTION.  227 

island  had  been  divided.  The  aristocrats  clamored  for 
the  Constitution  of  1812,  which  established  an  Upper 
House;  the  populace,  saturated  with  Carbonarism,  i)re- 
ferred  a  democratic  statute ;  both  parties  agreed  in  desir- 
ing Home  Rule  for  Sicily. 

It  happened  that  two  Sicilian  nobles.  Prince  di  Villa- 
franca  and  Prince  di  Cassero,  were  in  Naples  when  the 
Spanish  Constitution  was  granted.  They  immediately 
protested  that  it  would  never  satisfy  the  people  beyond  the 
Faro.  The  King  and  his  partisans  secretly  chuckled 
at  this  portent  of  a  quarrel  in  which  they  foresaw  an 
advantage  for  themselves.  The  Regent,  in  receiving  the 
protest,  slyly  remarked  that  he  regretted  that  the  Neapol- 
itans liad  not  chosen  the  Sicilian  Constitution  of  1812. 

Messina  was  the  first  town  to  hear  of  the  revolution, 
and  the  plebs,  to  whom  the  Spanish  Constitution  was 
agreeable,  seized  control  of  the  ox)vcrnment  there.  The 
news  did  not  reach  Palermo  until  July  14,  when  the  pop- 
ulace were  celebrating  tho.  Feast  of  Santa  Rosalia.  They 
quickly  turned  to  discuss  the  startling  change.  The  more 
prudent  citizens  were  for  sending  a  ])etition  to  the  King 
to  grant  Sicily  lier  former  Constitution,  when  their  delib- 
erations weri^  broken  in  u})on  by  tlie  soldiery,  wlio  as 
Nea})olitans  and  Carbonari  ui)held  the  Spanish  system, 
and  threatened  to  ])urn  th(*h()uses  of  all  wlio  opjiosed  it. 
The  populace,  inveteratcly  liostile  to  tlie  up])er  classes, 
sided  for  the  moment  with  the  soldiers.  That  iiiulit 
Palcniio  was  noisy  with  multitud<'s  wearing  the  tricolor 
cockade,  to  wliicli  they  added  the  vcllow  ribbon  of  Sicily. 
( )n  tlic  moi-row  Xasclli,  Licutcnant-(  ieneral  of  the  island, 
issu«'d  a  proclamation  stating  that  the  King  had  granted 
a  cojistitution,  Imt  he  left  in  doubt  whetiicr  it  was  the 
Sicilian  oi-  the  Spanish.  Tliis  susixmisc  heightened  the 
excitement,  and  that  same  evening  soldiers  and  otHicers  in 
large  numbers  swarmed  to  and  fio  in  \'ia  del  ( "assero, 
the  main   avenue  of   the   city,    shouting   for   the    Spanish 


228  THE    DAWN    OF   ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

Constitution  and  for  Independence.  General  Church,  a 
military  adventurer  who  slashed  his  way  to  notoriety  dur- 
ing the  Napoleonic  wars,  and  who  now  commanded  the 
army  in  Sicily,  odious  as  an  enemy  of  the  Carbonari  and 
as  the  agent  of  conscription,  appeared  among  the  boister- 
ous soldiery  and  ordered  them  to  their  quarters.  There- 
upon the  populace  fell  upon  him,  and  but  for  the  succor 
of  some  of  his  officers  would  have  killed  him.  lie  lost 
no  time  in  stealing  out  of  the  city  to  take  refuge  at 
Trapani,  whence  he  fled  at  the  first  opportunity  to  Naples, 
leaving  his  house  burnt  behind  him.  Another  niglit 
passed  and  still  Naselli  wavered.  He  promised  to  send 
envoys  to  acquaint  the  King  with  the  wishes  of  the  Sicil- 
ians; but  no  vessel  made  sail  out  of  the  port,  and  the 
populace  demanded  that  the  fortress  of  Castellamare, 
which  juts  seaward  midway  in  the  crescent  of  Palermo's 
harbor,  should  be  surrendered  to  them.  Naselli  con- 
sented, on  condition  that  the  garrison  should  remain  there 
undisturbed.  Still  unappeased,  they  wrecked  the  Stamp 
Office,  the  Bureau  of  Registry,  and  other  offices  asso- 
ciated with  the  detested  Neapolitan  government.  Deep 
in  the  night  of  July  17  the  troops  expelled  the  rabble 
from  Castellamare,  and  when  day  came  all  classes  were 
seething  with  wrath  which  must  soon  find  vent. 

There  is  in  every  large  moflern  city  a  forlorn,  desper- 
ate mass,  little  heeded  in  tranquil  times,  when  the  police 
are  vigilant  and  the  courts  severe.  It  is  composed  of  the 
wretches  who  have  failed  in  reaching  even  the  lowest 
plane  of  independence,  or  who  more  often  have  never 
tried  to  rise ;  of  the  wicked  and  reprobate,  whose  crimes 
have  driven  them  like  rats  into  foid  places.  Among 
them  are  the  beggars,  loafers,  and  swindlers,  the  bixr- 
glars  and  cutthroats,  the  ex-convicts  and  the  panders  to 
vice.  The  women  are  slatterns  and  harlots,  ^\onlaldy 
only  in  sex,  but  as  gross  and  brutal  in  their  speech  and 
acts  as  the  men.      The  children,  bred  in  corruption  and 


NAPLES   IN    REVOLUTION.  229 

nurtured  with  blows  and  curses,  instead  of  the  innocence 
of  childhood  display  a  precocious  cunning,  an  infantile 
depravity,  saddest  of  all  evidences  of  human  degeneracy. 
This  human  cesspool  is  kept  at  the  flood  by  the  creatures 
spawned  in  its  depths,  and  by  in-pourings  from  the  social 
levels  above  it.  There  it  reeks  from  decade  to  decade, 
little  affected  by  the  changes  which  improve  the  rest  of 
the  city,  —  a  pestilent  hopeless  Malebolge,  hidden  just 
below  the  surface  of  respectable  society.  The  outcasts 
who  welter  therein  know  no  more  of  life  than  its  squalors 
and  disgusts.  They  have  the  primal  brutish  instincts  of 
savages,  but  they  have  not  those  compensating  instincts 
which  enable  even  savages  to  form  a  primitive  connnunity. 
Hunger  and  thirst,  heat  and  cold  and  goatish  lust,  are 
the  grim  demons  which  in  turn  possess  them.  To  appease 
the  appetite  of  the  hour  and  never  to  be  appeased,  is 
their  impulse,  their  experience.  Those  desires  and  wants 
which  spur  other  men  to  endeavor,  which  evoke  a  forti- 
tude greater  than  the  hardship,  a  self-control  stronger 
than  the  desire,  and  which  in  noble  minds  are  vanquished 
by  a  stoical  disdain,  overwhelm  these  wretches  and  make 
them  baser  than  slaves.  Ties  of  family,  they  know  them 
not:  how  should  they  know  them,  stived  as  they  are,  a 
score  of  men,  women,  and  childr«;n  together  in  a  single 
room?  Bi'other  would  slay  brother  for  the  possession  of 
a  woman;  the  mother  begrudges  her  child  the  garbage  he 
has  snatched  from  the  gutter.  Laws  they  respect  not: 
are  not  the  laws  barriers  set  uj)  by  the  rich  and  fortunate 
to  keep  thes(!  abject  ones  from  the  loaf  and  flagon  they 
covet?  1^'Iigion  they  understand  not;  at  most  they  are 
conscious  of  a  (himl)  foreboding  lest  To-morrow  be  more 
horril)le  than  To-day.  '^Fliis  mass,  whose  health  is  rotten- 
ness, lies  inert  but  ominous  at  tiie  very  core  of  onr  proud 
ca])itals:  the  Arts  fiourish  round  it,  Conunerce  thrives, 
IMiilosopliies  are  jinMislied,  I'olitics  aic  disenssed;  but  it 
renuiins  unafl'ected,  the  (h'positoiy  of  the  aboriginal   bes- 


230  TUE   DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

tial  instincts  of  mankind.  It  is  a  monster  whose  survival 
from  a  preglacial  period  mocks  our  civilization  and  con- 
demns our  religion.  Missionaries  hasten  to  Pai)ua  and 
Ashantee  to  expound  the  doctrines  of  predestination  and 
purgatory  to  astonished  savages;  but  at  home,  a  few 
streets  away  from  the  churches,  lie  Papuas  and  Ashan- 
tees  far  more  needing  regeneration. 

In  times  when  respectability  prevails,  this  monster  is 
held  in  check;  its  members,  like  the  wolfish  mongrels  of 
Stamboul,  prowl  the  streets  at  night  in  search  of  refuse, 
and  snarl  among  themselves ;  but  you  can  cower  them  ea- 
sily with  a  menacing  gesture.  But  suppose  all  the  butch- 
ers were  suddenly  called  away,  leaving  their  shambles 
unguarded,  do  you  think  those  currish  scavengers,  for  all 
their  long  diet  of  offal,  have  lost  their  craving  for  meat? 
Let  Paris  tell  you  how  her  outcasts  behave  when  their 
keepers  sleep.  Presently  you  shall  hear  how  the  many- 
headed  beast  glutted  itself  at  Palermo:  but  first  you 
must  reflect  that  the  riders  of  Italy,  whether  by  their 
perfidy,  oppression,  or  incompetence,  had  helped  in  every 
city  to  swell  the  numbers  of  the  desperate  class  and  to 
whet  their  brutal  instincts. 

When  the  third  day  broke  on  Palermo  (July  17)  there 
were  signs  of  imminent  danger.  All  classes  were  sidlen, 
ready  to  fly  at  each  other's  throats  at  the  least  provoca- 
tion. The  nobles  who  had  first  raised  the  cry  of  inde- 
pendence had  been  out-shouted  by  the  populace,  who  in 
their  turn  were  exasperated  by  the  soldiery.  More  than 
sixty  hours  of  excitement,  little  sleep,  much  wine,  and 
many  harangues  would  unfit  tlie  soberest  legislators  for 
deliberation;  far  more  did  they  unfit  these  passionate 
Palermitans,  whose  brains  reeled  with  wild  impulses, 
whose  tongues  uttered  delirious  hopes,  whose  hearts  were 
festering  with  old  grievances  and  wrath  long  repressed. 
The  continued  suspense,  due  to  the  evident  incapacity  of 
the  Lieutenant-General,  and  his  duplicity  in  ordering  the 


NAPLES   IN    REVOLUTION.  231 

garrison  to  drive  the  militia  from  the  fortress,  intensified 
that  impulse,  common  to  human  nature  in  critical  mo- 
ments, to  do  something,  if  it  be  only  to  do  amiss.  Troops 
of  cavalry  and  infantry,  commanded  by  a  General 
O'Faris,  blustered  through  the  streets,  and  by  their  taunts 
invited  a  quarrel.  Some  of  the  more  temperate  citizens, 
being  unable  to  placate  them,  sought  Naselli,  who  had 
quitted  the  city,  and  as  they  were  returning  from  him 
with  a  written  order  for  the  troops  to  withdraw  to  their 
quarters,  the  soldiers  opened  fire,  and  shot  down  two  of 
the  peacemakers.  That  volley  was  the  signal  for  the 
long-awaited  tumult.  The  soldiers,  now  beyond  restraint, 
fired  at  the  windows  and  balconies  of  the  houses,  and 
killed  women  and  children  drawn  thither  by  curiosity. 
The  populace,  lashed  to  fury,  seizing  one  a  musket, 
another  a  knife,  a  third  a  bludgeon,  set  upon  their  assail- 
ants. Each  street  echoed  with  the  fusilade  and  the 
shouts  of  the  fighters,  and  the  groans  of  the  wounded ; 
each  square  was  a  battlefield.  The  nobles  and  bourgeois 
held  aloof,  but  they  were  not  missed;  for  plebs  have 
always  the  majority:  and  to  honest  plebs  were  soon  added 
the  dishonest  and  desperate  who  glided  out  of  their  liid- 
iiig-})laces  at  the  sound  of  war.  The  prisons  being  un- 
locked, the  convicts  rushed  thence  to  aid  the  artisans, 
who  were  disposed  in  squads  accurding  to  their  guihl, 
and  led  by  a  priest,  Joachim  Vaglica.  It  was  a  struggle 
for  life  or  death :  the  populace  fouglit  madly  to  wreak 
vengeance  upon  the  instruments  of  their  past  injui'it's;  tlie 
soldiers  knew  that  they  could  expect  no  mercy  from  tlie 
foes  whom  tliey  had  infuriated  by  their  insoh'ncc  and 
brutality.  The  bells  had  tolled  nine  when  the  first  blood 
was  shed  ;  they  tolled  noon  amid  the  nnslaekened  roar  of 
the  conHiet.  Hour  by  hour  the  insuigents  gained,  gi-ad- 
ually  driving  the  troojts  to  bay  in  the  })ia/.za  before  the 
Ivoyal  Palace.  'I'here  both  sides  hail  cannon.  l)ut  the  l>»"p- 
ulace  by  pouring  into  the  piazza  from  its  tril)utary  streets 


232  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE, 

were  able  to  attack  the  troops  in  many  points  simul- 
taneously. The  cavalry  charged  to  drive  them  back, 
when  an  unexpected  cannonade  swept  through  their 
squadrons:  they  wavered,  they  fell  back,  tliey  took  to 
flight.  Then  the  infantry  broke  and  followed  pell-mell 
through  those  streets  which  were  unblocked  by  the  mob. 
Sixty  of  the  popvdace  had  been  killed ;  the  military  losses 
were  five  hundred  in  killed  and  wounded,  and  many  more 
made  prisoners,  including  O'Faris  and  two  other  gener- 
als, whose  lives  were  barely  saved.  Naselli,  as  soon  as 
defeat  threatened,  had  taken  refuge  on  shipboard  and 
then  sailed  for  Naples.^ 

Palermo  was  now  in  the  hands  of  its  populace.  The 
provi^onal  Junta  which  Naselli  had  appointed  was  as 
powerless  to  restrain  the  victorious  mob,  as  it  had  been 
to  prevent  the  riot.  The  day  closed  with  the  sack  of  the 
Royal  Palace.  Among  the  guilds,  each  of  which  was  nom- 
inally commanded  by  a  consul,  the  Tanners  took  the  lead 
by  their  vehemence.  The  torrent  of  lawlessness  was 
swelled  and  darkened  by  the  streams  drained  into  it  from 
the  prisons  and  galleys  and  by  the  inpovirings  from  the 
social  cesspool  I  have  described.  For  several  days  terror 
reigned.  Dwellings  were  gutted  and  burnt,  shops  and 
warehouses  were  plundered,  suspected  persons  were  cast 
into  prison  or  slain.  Prince  della  Cattolica,  supposed  to 
have  been  in  collusion  with  Naselli,  was  hunted  down  in 
his  retreat  in  the  country,  was  killed  without  mercy,  and 
his  body  was  left  for  days  to  rot  by  the  roadside.  Prince 
d'Aci,  hated  for  his  past  severity  when  prsetor,  was 
dragged  from  the  palace  of  Cardinal  Gravina,  whither 
he  had  sought  asylum,  and  murdered ;  and  then  the  mob 

^  Poggi,  i,  273-5  ;  Turotti,  i,  617-24.  Some  historians,  among  whom  is 
Turotti,  affirm  that  Naselli  was  underhand  rather  than  incompetent,  smd 
that  all  his  acts  during  these  critical  days  were  planned  hy  him  to  instigate 
an  insurrection  which  should  afford  the  Bourhon  government  an  excuse 
for  withholding  the  Constitution  from  Sicily,  and  for  punishing  the  island 
by  a  more  oppressive  tyranny. 


NAPLES    IN    REVOLUTION.  233 

bore  his  head  on  a  pole  through  the  streets.  Fury  is  as 
contagious  as  panic  fear  among  crowds;  and  many  of 
these  Palermitans,  crazed  by  the  general  frenzy,  com- 
mitted crimes  without  deliberation ;  others  were  bent  on 
revenge,  others  again  on  booty.  The  soberer  citizens 
seconded  the  effort  of  the  consuls  to  form  a  Junta  of  ten 
cavaliers  and  ten  jurisprudents,  and  they  were  careful  to 
select  men  supposed  to  favor  Sicilian  independence,  and 
to  be  acceptable  to  the  populace.  But  the  Junta  had  no 
force  wherewith  to  make  itself  obeyed.  At  its  first  meet- 
ing, a  band  of  marauders  gathered  ominously  before  the 
palace  of  Cardinal  Gravina,  the  President  of  the  Junta, 
and  cried  out  for  absolution  for  their  crimes,  till  he 
deemed  it  wise  to  ajjpear  on  the  balcony  and  nuike  the 
sign  of  pardon  over  them.  When  the  proceedings  of  the 
Junta  were  too  slow  to  satisfy  the  impetuous,  it  was 
whispered  that  Gravina  was  a  traitor,  and  but  for  the 
protection  of  the  priest  Vaglica,  who  still  retained  the 
confidence  of  the  mob,  he  too  would  have  been  dis- 
patched. 

AVe  need  not  rehearse  the  details  of  the  atrocities  com- 
mitted during  that  sunnner  in  Sicily,  when  the  sun  blazed 
with  iniusual  fierceness,  yet  not  so  hotly  as  the  passions 
of  the  islanders.  We  need  not  follow  th(^  ])recarious  for- 
tunes of  the  flunta,  nor  of  the  leaders  wlio.  Licking  power 
to  dam  the  flood,  resigned  in  quick  suceessiou  from  their 
dangerous,  hoi)eless  })ost.  AVe  need  not  tell  how  bands 
of  guerrillas  sprang  u[)  in  all  parts  of  the  island,  to  tight 
eaeli  other  and  to  harass  the  i)eaceful;  how  towns  were 
sacked,  farms  devastated,  women  ravislied:  how  province 
wrangled  witli  ])i'ovinee,  city  with  city;  how  tlie  ])ai'tisans 
of  th<^  Spanish  Constitution  smote  the  ])artisans  of  tiu^ 
Sicilian  Constitution,  and  all  ])arties  niach'  tlieii'  political 
disagreement  an  excuse  for  niui(h'r,  ]»ilLige,  and  i"i))ine: 
how  the  desperate  classes  crawled  e\ ciTwhei'c  out  ot"  tlieir 
burrows,  and  the  piisons  were  voided  of   their   criminals: 


234  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

the  ten  weeks'  orgie  but  proved  how  much  of  the  tiger 
still  survived  in  the  Sicilian  nature,  and  how  near  that 
tiger  crouched  to  the  surface.  The  government  at  Na- 
ples, we  surmise,  might  have  tamed  the  monster  by  a  quick 
display  of  energy ;  but  energy  was  not  a  characteristic  of 
the  Bourbons.  Possibly,  too,  the  King  and  Regent  were 
not  unwilling  that  the  Sicilian  discord  should  become  so 
intense  that  they  might  have  an  easy  victory  by  playing 
off  one  faction  against  the  other.  At  any  rate,  wlien 
envoys  from  Palermo  reached  Naples,  instead  of  being 
listened  to,  they  were  locked  up.  At  last,  however,  the 
government  took  alarm  and  dispatched  Florestan  Pepe, 
brother  of  William,  with  a  considerable  force  to  subdue 
the  island.  Landing  on  the  northern  coast  he  advanced 
towards  Palermo,  and  having  driven  back  small  forces 
of  insurgents  began  to  invest  the  city.  The  Palermitans 
were  in  no  condition  to  undergo  a  long  siege :  the  chaos 
of  more  than  two  months  had  wasted  their  provisions; 
the  neighboring  country,  exhausted  by  depredation,  could 
have  furnished  no  new  supplies,  even  had  the  means  of 
communication  not  been  closed.  When  a  few  days  of 
famine  had  dashed  the  bravado  of  the  besieged.  Prince 
di  Paternb,  one  of  the  nobles  who  was  still  popular  with 
the  masses,  by  a  shrewd  policy  brought  them  to  think  of 
surrender.  Haranguing  the  multitude,  he  bade  them  to 
brand  as  a  deserter  whoever  talked  of  peace ;  he  offered 
money  to  all  who  would  then  and  there  join  him  in  an 
attempt  to  break  through  the  enemy's  lines.  When  no 
one  moved,  he  chid  them  for  their  cowardice  and  lavighed 
at  their  sham  pugnacity.  Having  thus  gained  their  con- 
fidence and  proved  their  weakness,  he  was  chosen  to  nego- 
tiate with  Pepe.  A  general  amnesty  was  agreed  upon, 
Sicily  consented  to  accept  the  Spanish  Constitution,  but 
the  question  of  a  se])arate  Sicilian  parliament  was  left  to 
be  decided  later.  The  day  on  which  these  tei'ms  were 
made  (October  5),  the  Neapolitan  troops  marched  silent 


NAPLES    IN    REVOLUTION.  235 

and  sullen  into  Palermo  and  occupied  the  forts.  It  was 
estimated  that  four  thousand  of  the  islanders  had  been 
killed  during  the  civil  war;  the  damage  to  property  was 
enormous;  and  who  can  compute  the  harm  done  to  the 
Sicilian  character  by  that  long  delirium  of  carnage  and 
brutality  ? 

On  the  mainland  the  summer  waned  without  witnessing 
grave  disorders.  The  Carbonari  were  the  heroes,  and  in 
all  but  name  they  were  the  rulers  of  the  country.  They 
had  a  central  assembly  hall  in  the  capital,  and  no  longer 
kei)t  up  a  show  of  secrecy.  Beards  sprouted  on  all  male 
chins,  and  bushy  locks  waved  over  all  male  necks,  because 
such  was  the  Carbonaro  fasliion.  Samson  should  have, 
been  tlie  patron  saint  of  modern  revolutionists,  wlio  havcji 
attached  more  importance  to  the  length  of  hair  outsid 
their  skulls  than  to  the  strength  of  the  thouy,hts  within 
Tlie  relations  among  all  parties  were  delicate,  but  each 
side  knew  that  forbearance  was  necessary,  and,  strange  to 
say,  they  forbore.  The  Regent,  as  the  King  lurked  in 
shadow,  gave  no  cause  for  the  susjjicion  tliat  he  would  not 
fulfil  his  pledges  to  the  people.  \Villiam  Pepe  and  the 
chief  Constitutionalists  ostentatiously  protested  their  loy- 
alty to  the  monarchy;  the  extremists,  who  had  a  republic 
and  universal  happiness  on  the  tips  of  their  tongues,  con- 
tented themselves  with  exercising  tliat  organ  and  no  other. 
So  the  weeks  wore  on,  and  by  the  time  the  first  grapes 
had  begun  to  ripen,  and  Naples  was  bristling  with  Car- 
bonari beards,  the  deputies  had  been  chosen  witliout  dis- 
turbance and  were  come  up  to  the  ca})ital  for  the  opiMiiug 
of  the  Parlianu^nt. 

On  October  1,  that  Parliament,  tlie  first  representative 
body  of  modern  Italians  constitutionally  elected,  convened 
in  the  church  of  Santo  Spirito.  Tlu're  were  the  King  and 
Regent,  th(;  nienibei-s  of  the  I'oyal  family  and  Court,  tlu* 
dignitaries  of  the  Church  and  generals  of  the  army,  the 
two  and   seventy  deputies,   and   as   large   a   concourse   of 


236  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

citizens  as  the  church  would  hold.  The  King,  placing 
one  hand  on  the  Bible,  again  took  the  oath  to  defend  the 
Constitution.  Galdi,  President  of  the  Chamber,  delivered 
an  address,  temperate  in  tone  but  not  in  length,  to  which 
Ferdinand  made  approving  gestures.  Then  Pepe  resigned 
his  commission  of  commander-in-chief  of  the  army,  was 
complimented  by  the  King,  and  thanked  by  the  Regent 
for  his  devotion  to  the  royal  family  and  to  the  public 
welfare.  The  King  then  rose,  and  having  declared  the 
Parliament  opened,  he  and  his  cortege  quitted  the  church. 
The  superstitious  remarked  that  the  weather,  which  had 
been  cloudy  at  his  arrival,  poured  down  rain  at  his  de- 
parture. 

On  the  next  day  Parliament  opened  its  regular  sessions 
in  the  hall  of  St.  Sebastian.  Worthy,  and  earnest,  and 
willing  were  those  three-score  and  twelve  deputies,  but 
they  lacked  experience.  Imagine,  in  a  country  without 
physicians,  a  troop  of  novices  called  in  to  prescribe  for 
a  sick  man;  what  disputes,  what  blunders  must  ensue! 
Happy  the  patient  if  he  escape  alive.  Yet  the  body  pol- 
itic of  Naples,  wasted  by  a  complication  of  chronic  diseases, 
was  now  left  to  the  mercy  of  politicians  without  a  diploma. 
Some  advised  an  opiate,  some  an  emetic,  others  were  for 
heroic  treatment  and  itched  to  ply  the  knife.  As  always 
happei^vS,  the  assembly  soon  split  up  into  three  sections, 
composed  of  the  Moderates,  the  Waverers,  and  the  Radi- 
cals. And  besides  this  legally  convened  parliament,  there 
were  numberless  other  unofficial  and  irresponsible  parlia- 
ments, whose  meeting-place  was  on  the  sidewalk  or  in  the 
public  square  and  in  every  lodge  of  Carbonari;  and  they 
all  showered  suggestions  and  demands  upon  the  poor  be- 
wildered deputies.  These,  with  a  fine  disregard  of  sep- 
arating the  important  from  the  trivial,  began  their  work 
by  changing  the  names  of  the  Neapolitan  provinces;  jump- 
ing the  Christian  era,  they  revived  the  names  of  the  Sam- 
nites,  Hirpini,  and  Marsi.      One  deputy  endangered  the 


NAPLES    IN    REVOLUTION.  237 

tranquillity  of  the  Parliament  by  throwing  into  it  the 
question,  "Is  this  assembly  constituent  or  constituted?" 
The  prudent  and  fearful,  remembering  whither  a  similar 
question  had  brought  the  French  Assembly,  trembled  lest 
discussion  should  lead  to  an  explosion,  but  fortunately 
news  came  of  the  surrender  of  Palermo,  to  turn  attention 
away  from  that  dangerous  topic.  The  Neapolitans  were 
angry  at  the  terms  Florestan  Pepe  had  made  with  the 
rebels,  who,  they  said,  had  virtually  gained  from  him  the 
recognition  of  their  right  to  Home  Kule.  Parliament 
echoed  the  anger  of  the  populace,  annidled  the  compact, 
ordered  the  Sicilians  to  elect  and  send  deputies  to  Na- 
ples, and  replaced  Pepe  by  Colletta.  The  latter,  a  stern 
soldier,  resolved  on  doing  right  as  he  saw  it  tlirough  Car- 
bonaro  glasses,  succeeded  in  preventing  another  outl)reak 
in  Sicily ;  but  the  order  he  maintained  was  due  to  his  vig- 
orous a])plication  of  martial  law,  and  not  to  the  healthy 
removal  of  grievances.  So  determined  were  the  Neapoli- 
tans not  to  recognize  the  separatist  claims  of  the  Sicil- 
ians, that  they  decreed  that  the  Straits  of  Messina  should 
be  known  as  the  river  of  the  I^haros.  Whilst  they  were 
thus  engaged  in  amending  geograpliical  nomenclature, 
and  in  disputing  over  internal  affairs,  there  was  brewing 
in  tlie  skies  to  the  north  of  them,  —  of  wliich  they 
seemed  as  oblivious  as  if  they  had  been  dwellers  on  Pit- 
cairn's  Island,  —  a  great  tempest  whose  rumblings  they 
could  already  hear  in  the  intervals  between  their  own 
debates. 

The  Ju])itcr  who  rode  tlws  storm  and  hurled  its  thunder- 
bolts was  clean-shaven,  blandly-smiling  Prince  ^Vletter- 
nich,  clad  not  in  Olympian  nudity,  but  in  rufHed  nnislin 
shirt,  in  embroidered  brocade  coat  sparkling  with  many 
orders,  in  satin  waistcoat,  in  silk  knee-breeches  and  stock- 
ings, and  in  shining  ])umps  witli  silver  buckles;  a  sort  of 
Beau-Brummel-.In))iti'r,  ('(jually  at  home  in  the  boudoirs  of 
dcmi-troddesses  and  the  councils  of  kin-rs.      The  mundane 


238  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

events  of  this  year,  1820,  had  more  than  once  wrinkled 
his  Jovial  brow  and  dropped  bitterness  into  his  cup  of 
nectar;  for  it  was  less  than  five  years  since  he,  in  his 
supernal  wisdom,  had  decreed  a  government  for  Europe, 
and  here  wei-e  the  Europeans  up  in  rebellion  declaring 
that  his  government  was  not  good.  The  military  mutiny 
at  Cadiz  and  subsequent  revolution  in  Spain,  the  assas- 
sination of  the  Duke  of  Berri,  the  revolutions  in  Portugal 
and  Naples,  what  were  all  these  but  signs  of  the  naughti- 
ness and  ingratitude  of  mortal  men,  whom  the  bounty  of 
even  a  Brummel -Jupiter  could  not  satisfy?  They 
spurned  his  smiles,  let  them  beware  his  frowns :  let  them 
not  think  that  he  who  but  a  little  while  ago  had  helped  to 
bind  the  Prometheus  of  the  Revolution  on  St.  Helena's 
rock,  would  see  Olympus  stormed  by  a  horde  of  revolu- 
tionary pygmies. 

Metternich  surveyed  the  danger,  and  prepared  to  crush 
it.  He  might  leave  the  rebels  in  the  Spanish  peninsula 
to  wear  themselves  out,  but  the  revolution  in  Naples 
called  for  his  immediate  interference.  If  the  Neapolitans 
were  allowed  a  constitutioijal  government,  how  could  the 
other  Italians  be  denied?  And  how  would  the  Lombards 
and  Venetians  suffer  Austria's  jiaternal  tyranny,  if  they 
saw  their  brothers  across  the  Po  living  in  liberty  ?  Evi- 
dently Austria  would  have  to  redouble  her  garrisons  in 
Venice  and  Lombardy  if  that  calamity  befell.  To  Met- 
ternich, on  his  Olympian  peak,  those  efforts  of  oppressed 
people  to  win  their  freedom  looked  but  like  the  work  of 
tramps  setting  fire  to  hayricks.  "The  revolt  breaks 
out,"  he  writes;  "it  is  indubitable  and  evident;  it  is  the 
beginning  of  a  conflagration ;  if  they  are  in  good  order, 
take  your  fire-engines  there;  ask  no  questions;  do  not 
hesitate;  extinguish  the  fire;  success  will  be  certain.  .  .  . 
Our  fire-engines  were  not  full  in  July,  otherwise  we 
should  have  set  to  work  immediately."^     But  although 

^  Memoirs,  iii,  448. 


NAPLES   IN    REVOLUTION.  239 

taken  by  surprise,  he  did  not  regret  that  the  conflagra- 
tion at  Naples  had  been  allowed  to  burn  brightly  enough 
for  him  to  see  the  faces  of  the  incendiaries.  And  when 
he  recognized  them  as  Carbonari,  as  members  of  those 
secret  societies  which  deposit  "everywhere  the  seeds  of  a 
moral  gangrene  which  is  not  slow  to  develop  and  in- 
crease," ^  he  exulted;  because  he  preferred  "to  take  in 
hand  Carbonarism  rather  than  Liberalism." ^  The  Lib- 
eral he  deemed  a  half-hearted  fellow,  but  tlie  Carbonaro 
was  one  who  never  qualified  his  demands  through  fear  or 
bashfulness  or  policy;  and  as  "the  man  who  desires  the 
whole  is  very  strong  in  comparison  with  him  who  desires 
only  the  half,"'^  Metteruich  believed  that  if  he  played 
his  engines  on  Carbonarism,  the  half-ignited  embers  of 
Liberalism  would  fizzle  out  of  themselves. 

Had  his  troops  been  ready,  he  would  have  marched 
them  immediately  to  Naples  without  asking  leave,  and  he 
felt  sure  that  Europe  would  have  applauded  his  })rompt 
success;  but  since  he  could  not  do  this,  he  planned  that 
Austria  should  receive  from  tlu^  chief  Powers  tlie  mandate 
to  put  down  the  revolution.  lie  could  count  u])ou  Prus- 
sia's consent,  and  Enijland,  throusih  Castlcreauh,  he  so(m 
cajoled.  England  had  scruples,  indeed,  as  to  the  justice 
of  interfering  in  the  internal  affairs  of  an  independent 
State,  but  those  internal  affaii-s  became  of  intci'iiational 
concern  wlien  they  menaced  tlie  peace  of  nci^lilx^ing 
States:  viewed  fi-om  this  ])()int  th(>y  jnstilied  foreign 
intervention;  and,  since  Austria  was  cliicfly  affected, 
England  was  willing  to  allow  her  to  take  what  nu-asures 
seemed  pro])er  to  her.'  France,  anil)itious  to  n-gain  the 
inflnence  which  she  liad  lost  since  Waterloo,  was  inclined 
to  look  less  harshly  on  the  Neapolitan  Constitutionalists; 
"at  least,"  she  urged,  "let  ns  sanction  what  is  moderate 
and  beneficial  in  their  reforms,  althongh  we  condemn  the 

1  ^f,•mr,irs.  iw.  WA.  -i  //,(,/.  i:.i.  ■>  lbi,/.A:>o. 

*  Biaiichi,  ii.  lU-12. 


240  THE   DAWN   OF   ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

military  sedition  out  of  which  they  sprang."^  But  Met- 
ternich's  chief  opponent  was  the  Czar.  Alexander  was 
mercurial  and  enthusiastic  in  temperament,  easily  caught 
by  high-sounding  phrases,  and  ruled  by  favorites  who 
flattered  his  vanity  to  be  considered  a  monarch  of  large 
ideas  and  generous  purposes.  At  the  downfall  of  Naj^o- 
leon  he  aspired  to  play  the  part  of  the  Good  Genius  of 
Europe;  he  coquetted  with  liberal  doctrines,  but  never 
imagined  that,  because  they  pleased  his  fancy,  he  was 
under  obligation  to  put  them  into  practice.  Genuinely 
solicitous  of  the  welfare  of  his  people,  he  never  dreamt 
that  that  welfare  could  be  promoted  by  any  methods  of 
which  he  did  not  approve.  As  Russian  autocrat  he  was 
opposed  to  the  aggrandizement  of  his  rival,  the  Austrian 
autocrat,  and  he  had,  as  we  have  seen,  interfered  more 
than  once  to  block  Austrian  machinations  in  Italy.  It 
was  believed,  and  probably  with  reason,  that  he  had  en- 
coiiraged  his  agents  in  their  friendly  intercourse  with 
Italian  Liberals.  He  was  even  suspected  of  having  a 
secret  understanding  with  the  Carbonari.  He  coveted 
a  seaport  on  the  Mediterranean,  and  he  hoped  perhaps 
that,  in  certain  contingencies,  the  Russian  flag  might  fly 
over  Ancona  or  Spezzia.  In  1820  he  and  his  chief  min- 
ister. Capo  d'  Istria,  were  still  amusing  themselves  with 
their  pretty  doll  Liberalism,  of  Parisian  make.  Metter- 
nich,  who  had  no  high  opinion  of  grown-up  monarchs  and 
ministers  who  delight  in  childish  to^'S,  wished  to  arrange 
a  private  conference  between  the  Czar  and  Emperor 
Francis;  but  to  this  Alexander  would  not  agree.  Then 
it  was  arranired  that  the  sovereiofus  of  the  Five  Powers 
should  meet  and  confer  at  Troppau. 

To  Tro})pau,  therefore,  Alexander,  Frederick  William, 
and  Francis  went  at  the  end  of  October;  England  sent 
Lord  Stewart,  Castlereagh's  brother,  and  France  was 
represented  by  La  Ferronays  and  Caraman.    To  discredit 

^  Biauchi.  ii,  6-7. 


NAPLES   IN   REVOLUTION.  241 

Capo  d'  Istria  before  the  Czar  was  Metternich's  first  move. 
Pretending  that  Alexander's  generous  impulses  were  in 
the  abstract  worthy  of  so  intelligent  and  noble  a  monarch, 
he  shrewdly  proceeded  to  show  how  different,  how  dan- 
gerous Liberalism  appeared,  when  it  took  its  natural  con- 
crete form.  Did  his  majesty  regard  with  satisfaction  the 
recent  miitiny  of  his  troops  at  St.  Petersburg?  Had  he 
forgotten  his  ambition  to  gviarantee  the  peace  of  Europe 
against  political  incendiaries?  Had  he  not,  only  two 
years  before,  declared  that  resistance  to  the  legitimate 
authority  in  any  country  would  justify  the  Allied  Powers 
in  armed  interference  ?  ^  To  reinforce  these  oral  argu- 
ments, Metternich  submitted  to  the  Czar  a  written  "Con- 
fession of  Political  Faith,"  a  long  document,  in  which  he 
set  forth  his  political  maxims,  dogmatically  supporting 
them  by  historical  examples,  and  deducing  from  them  co- 
rollaries so  cogent  and  predictions  so  plausible  that  they 
could  not  fail  to  convince  a  monarch  who  prided  himself 
upon  being  a  philosopher.^  Metternich's  reasons  pre- 
vailed, and  he  coidd  soon  write,  "The  Neapolitan  revolt 
and  all  its  charms  have  been  put  in  quarantine."  The 
Powers  agreed  that  they  "  would  never  recognize  anything 
which  is  the  work  of  the  rebellion,"  but  that  "before  re- 
sorting to  extreme  measures,  they  desire  to  exhaust  every 
means  of  reconciliation,  not  between  the  rebellion  and 
lawful  power,  but  between  the  real  interests  of  the  Nea- 
politan Kingdom  and  those  of  Italy  and  Euroi)e."  The 
three  monarchs,  therefore,  invited  tlie  King  of  Na])k's  to 
visit  them,  and  to  lay  before  them  the  condition  of  liis 
subjects  and  liis  plan  of  restoi-ing  order.  The  King, 
being  free;,  as  the  Nea})olitans  persisted  in  affirming,  "he 
should  feel  it  his  duty  to  take  u])on  himself  this  great 
work."  If  he  refused,  the  Neapolitans  ought  to  surrender 
him ;  but  if  lie  acquiesced,  and  they  prevented  his  going, 

'   Fvfr.!:  Uistori/  of  Moi/trn  Ktirop<  (N'.-w  York,  1SS7),  ii,  VX). 
-  Full  text  ill  his  Miiiiniis.  iii.   I'lo-Td. 


242  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

every  Neapolitan  should  be  held  responsible  for  his  safety. 
This  action  being  taken,  the  Congress  at  Troppau  dis- 
solved,^ to  convene  forthwith  at  Lay  bach;  couriers  sped 
southward  with  the  invitation  to  Ferdinand,  and  Metter- 
nich  at  least  had  no  doubt  that  Ferdinand  would  accept 
it ;  for  he  had  in  his  portfolio  a  letter  in  which  the  King 
intimated  his  wish  to  flee  from  Naples  and  begged  Aus- 
tria to  send  an  army  to  reconquer  his  kingdom  for  him.^ 
To  the  Neapolitan  deputies  the  report  of  these  proceed- 
ings came  as  a  warning  that  they  had  foes  more  formid- 
able than  the  Bourbons.  On  December  7  the  Regent 
read  a  message  before  the  Parliament,  announcing  the 
receipt  of  the  invitation  and  of  the  King's  willingness 
to  accept  it,  in  order  that  he  might  be  the  peacemaker 
between  his  people  and  the  sovereigns  of  Europe,  and 
that  he  might  secure  a  constitution  establishing  national 
representation,  personal  liberty,  freedom  of  the  press, 
and  immunity  for  the  July  insurrectionists.  The  discus- 
sion of  the  message  was  postponed  till  the  following  day, 
and  meanwhile  the  city  fell  a  prey  to  rumors  and  suspi- 
cions. On  the  morrow,  when  the  deputies  went  to  the  hall 
of  Congress,  they  were  accompanied  by  crowds  of  angry 
sectaries,  who  shouted  for  "Tlie  Spanish  Constitution  or 
Death!  "  and  flourished  daggers  to  em]>hasize  their  mean- 
ing. Borelli,  an  able  speaker,  sovight  to  dissipate  the 
doubts  as  to  the  King's  loyalty:  it  would  be  monstrous, 
he  said,  to  suspect  the  descendant  of  St.  Louis  and  Henri 
Quatre  of  treachery. ^  So  it  was  voted  that  he  be  allowed 
to  depart  on  a  mission  which  could  not  harm  and  might 
help  the  country.  The  deputies  little  knew  that  in  the 
Royal  Palace  it  had  been  resolved  that,  should  the  Par- 
liament refuse,  an  attempt  would  be  made  "to  overthrow 

1  Metternich,  iii,  449-50  ;  Bianchi.  ii,  22-8. 

^  Bianchi,  ii,  2'].    It  is  also  asserted  that  Ferdinand  asked  the  monarchs 
to  invite  him  to  Laybach  :    CoUetta,  ii,  .385. 
^  Colletta,  ii,  389. 


NAPLES   IN   REVOLUTION.  243 

the  anarchists,  by  another  9th  Thermidor,"  —  as  if  by  the 
trimmers  and  poltroons  cowering  round  the  King,  much 
less  by  the  King  himself,  a  downright  bold  deed  could 
be  done !  ^  But  the  Court  took  precautions  to  redouble  the 
guards  at  the  palace,  —  a  sign  of  distrust  which  had  exas- 
perated the  populace,  and  had  led  the  Central  Assembly 
of  the  Carbonari  to  remain  in  session  until  the  crisis 
should  pass.  The  only  condition  exacted  from  the  King 
by  Parliament  was  that,  before  setting  out  on  his  journey, 
he  should  renew  his  oath  to  the  Constitution.  Ferdinand, 
who  was  thoroughly  alarmed  lest  escape  should  at  the  last 
moment  be  cut  off,  complied  in  a  written  message,  in 
which  he  promised  that  if  he  were  unable  to  persuade  the 
monarchs  at  Laybach  to  respect  the  wishes  of  his  subjects, 
he  would  return  in  time  to  draw  his  sword  in  their  de- 
fense. He  also  requested  that  four  de})uties  accompany 
him,  to  give  him  advice  and  to  bear  witness  to  his  vera- 
city.^ Parliament  and  populace  accepted  this  last  assever- 
ation of  sincerity  and  deemed  it  unnecessary  to  send  the 
four  deputies  with  the  King,  whose  honor  and  patriotism, 
they  were  glad  to  believe,  needed  no  guardians  nor  ad- 
visers. Ferdinand  embarked  (December  14)  on  an  Eng- 
lish ship,  which  was  delayed  for  a  short  time  by  an  acci- 
dent near  Baja :  whereu])on  a  delegation  of  de])uties  and 
officers  visited  him  to  express  tlu'ir  regret  at  the  mishap. 
When  the  frigate  at  last  got  under  way,  they  saw  the 
Carbonari  ribl)ons  still  fluttering  on  tlie  royal  bosom,  and 
they  went  home  fillinl  witli  i)rou(l  hopes  for  the  royal  mis- 
sion to  Tjaybach.^ 

Metternicli  reached  Laybach  early.      He  came  with  the 
buoyant   licart  of   a  man  about  to  consummate  business 

*  CarraHPosa,  2->T,  rpiotod  by  Popo,  ii,  o"). 

2  The  t<'xt  of  tliiH  lucssji-,'*'  is  in  ]*.-i)<^"s  lit!, it  ion  (lis  Kn'ilfmrns  Politiquoi 
et  Wlitoins  (P-.iviH,   lS_>-_').   1H;-17. 

"  On  hfinfi  aski-d  at  Layliacli  wliy  lir  li:i<l  worn  tli.>  r,irl)on:iri  colors  on 
this  Od'a-sion.  Kcrdinand  r.-pliiMl  tliat  lit'  lia<l  observed  tliat  his  ship  was 
within  raiip;  of  two  (.'aniion  on  the  fort  at  liaja  :    Pepe,   Mn/iori'-,  ii.  41. 


244  THE    DAWN    OF   ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

of  benefit  to  the  race  and  to  his  own  renown.  He  had, 
to  be  sure,  still  a  few  formalities  to  arrange,  but  as  he 
was  a  master  of  formalities,  this  work  was  his  recreation. 
lie  had  the  advantage  over  his  diplomatic  rivals  in  that 
he  coddled  no  delusions  concerning  the  propriety  of  Ab- 
solute monarchs  flirting  with  Liberty.  Months  before 
(August  10)  he  had  written  to  his  political  valet,  Gentz : 
"  In  Naples  no  one,  not  even  the  first  leaders,  know  where 
they  are  going,  where  they  can  go,  or  even  where  they 
want  to  go.  There  the  revolution  has  really  dropped 
from  the  clouds;  it  lies  like  a  spectre  on  the  land. 
Those  who  have  summoned  it  have  gained  their  end  so 
quickly  that  they  are  quite  astonished  to  be  suddenly 
oblijjed  to  rule."  ^  Metternich  had  increased  their  aston- 
ishment  by  refusing  to  receive  the  Neapolitan  envoy.  He 
had  arrayed  all  the  other  Italian  princes  against  the  con- 
stitutional government  except  the  Pope,  who  felt  it  his 
duty  to  remain  neutral,  and  the  Grand  Duke  of  Tuscany, 
who  trusted  so  fully  in  the  good-will  of  his  subjects  that 
he  did  not  need  Austria's  protection.  Conscious  of  his 
well-laid  preparation,  Metternich  breathed  the  balmier  air 
of  Laybach,  and  his  spirits  rose.  His  only  concern  was 
to  hold  the  volatile  impulses  of  tlie  Czar  long  enough  to 
make  him  an  accomplice  in  the  Austrian  policy ;  so  he  em- 
ployed his  leisure  before  the  arrival  of  the  sovereigns  in 
conferring  with  the  Czar's  chief  councilors,  Nessolrode 
and  Capo  d'  Istria.  The  former  he  likened  to  a  trout, 
which  nature  fitted  to  dis]5ort  itself  in  a  clear  running 
brook,  but  which  chance  had  penned  up  in  a  stagnant 
pool.  "Since  I  have  let  a  little  fresh  water  in  upon  him 
he  has  astonishingly  revived,"  writes  Metternich.  "He 
has  become  lively,  and  longs  for  the  harder  but  healthier 
medium.  He  will  certainly  not  remain  so,  for  what  is  a 
glass  of  pure  water  in  such  a  swamp?"  ^  Capo  d'  Istria, 
liowever,  was  not  so  easily  wrought  upon  by  a  draught 

1  Metternich,  iii.  441.  '^  Ibid,  478. 


NAPLES   IN    REVOLUTION.  245 

from  the  pure  Metternichian  spring.  The  Austrian 
chancellor  came  from  his  interview  with  Alexander's 
Greek  favorite  in  disgust,  almost  in  anger.  "A  tyrant 
does  not  alarm  me,"  he  says:  "I  should  know  how  to 
avoid  his  attacks,  or  bear  them  with  honor.  But  the 
Radical  maniac,  the  sentimental  Boudoir-Philanthropist, 
makes  me  uncomfortable.  I  like  iron  and  gold,  but  I 
hate  tin  and  copper.  This  childish  feeling  is  so  decided 
in  me  that  I  never  can  endure  jdated  things."  ^ 

The  monarchs  arrived,  and  with  their  ministers  made 
up  a  family  party,  which  seemed  more  bent  on  pleasure 
tlian  business,  and  from  which  all  strangers  and  unin- 
vited guests  were  excluded.  Metternich  devoted  himself 
to  the  Czar,  upon  whom,  over  a  samovar  of  caravan  tea, 
he  brought  to  bear  all  his  charms,  and  diplomatic  expe- 
dients. Ho  was  witty,  he  flattered,  he  argued,  he  en- 
treated, he  suggested  dangers,  and  all  so  plausibly  that  on 
January  10  he  was  able  to  write:  "To-day,  if  the  earth 
does  not  break  up  or  tlie  heavens  fall  down,  or  the  com- 
monest and  vilest  ruffians  destroy  all  good  people  with 
right  and  strong  wills,  we  liave  won  the  cause.  Capo 
d'  Istria  twists  about  like  a  devil  in  holy  water;  but  he  is 
in  holy  water  and  can  do  nothing.  The  chief  cause  of 
our  activity  to-day  arises  from  my  thorough  agreement 
with  the  Emperor  Alexander.  Here,  again,  the  tea  makes 
its  astonishing  power  felt. "^  Sure  of  the  Czar,  Metter- 
nich had  little  difficulty  with  the  other  Powers.  Kng- 
land  took  the  ground  that  the  Neapolitan  revolution 
touched  Austria  more  closely  than  the  rest  of  Europe,  and 
that  Austria  ouglit  therefore  to  be  allowed  to  interfere; 
for  the  sake  of  formality,  Austria  might  act  as  tlie  ninnchi- 
tary  of  Europe.'^     Pascpilcr,  the  French  Minister  of  For- 

'  Metteniidi.  iii.  4T1».  -  Hn,l,  -l^O. 

^  (\-lHtl('ri>af;-)rs  fourso  \v:is  ;iTiil>ii,'-ii()iis.  In  liis  oOici.il  (lis])at('lii's  in 
I)<'ceiiih<>r,  IS2I),  lit'  jnotfstrd  .maiiist  tln'  dixtriii"'  tliat  a  I'liaii^f  nf  '^oy- 
enuiicnt,  in  any  Statu  justified  tlic  Allied  Towers  in  iiiterferinL;  ;  Imt  lie 
Beems,  in  his   private  inslructioiLs  to  his  a;;(;nts,  to  havo   abLlleil  Anstria. 


246  THE   DAWN    OF   ITALI^VN   INDEPENDENCE. 

eign  Affairs,  resisted  the  assertion  of  the  right  of  foreign 
intervention  and  of  military  occupation  as  contrary  to 
the  laws  of  nations,  but  his  opinion  was  overruled  by  the 
reactionary  advisers  of  Louis  XVIII,  and  France  there- 
fore sided  with  Austria.  But  what  of  the  Neapolitan 
king  who  had  come  to  plead  the  cause  of  his  people  before 
the  Laybaeh  Congress? 

Ferdinand  announced  to  his  brother  monarchs  that  he 
had  taken  the  oath  to  the  Constitution  under  compulsion,^ 
—  that  he  was  as  unconverted  as  themselves  to  the  here- 
sies of  Liberalism,  —  that  he  left  it  to  them  to  chastise 
his  rebellious  subjects.  But  what  of  the  honor  of  a 
king?  what  of  the  oath  twice  sworn  on  the  Holy  Bible? 
The  descendant  of  St.  Louis  was  so  base  that  he  would 
not  have  understood  how  men  could  look  upon  his  per- 
jury as  shameful.  And  whilst  the  Congress  was  decid- 
ing the  fate  of  his  kingdom,  he  amused  himself  at  the 
chase,  or  with  the  Russian  bears  which  the  Czar  presented 
to  him.  Metternich  felt  contempt  for  Ferdinand,  not 
because  he  was  a  liar,  not  because  he  was  a  sneak,  but 
because  he  did  not  lie  and  deceive  successfully.  "For 
the  second  time,"  Metternich  wrote,  "the  task  devolved 

Fyffe  (Modern  Europe,  ii,  197)  takes  the  former  view  ;  Bianelii  (ii,  38) 
takes  the  latter. 

^  Turotti  (i,  177)  reports  a  conversation  between  Ferdinand  and  his 
confessor  from  which  I  quote  a  part.  "  King.  Does  n't  the  oath  I  made 
on  that  book  of  yours  bind  me  to  my  promise  ?  Confessor.  You  did  not 
make  the  oath  with  the  intention  of  keeping  it,  and  it  was  a  mere  formal- 
ity ;  where  there  is  not  a  precise  act  of  the  will  to  do  wrong,  there  is  no 
sin.  King.  Then  I  am  free,  for  my  intention  was  not  to  fulfil  by  my  act 
what  I  promised  in  my  words  ;  't  was  a  violence  of  those  Carbonari  rascals, 
who  constrained  me  by  force  ;  I  was  like  a  Christian  amid  Turks,  who,  to 
save  himself  from  the  stake,  promises  to  become  a  Mussulman.  Confessor. 
I  tell  you  the  crown  is  yoiirs,  and  that  a  people  may  exact  no  terms  from 
its  king-.  God  gave  it  to  your  race,  and  you  may  use  every  means  to  pre- 
serve it.  They  deceived  us  by  their  secret  tricks,  let  them  equally  be  de- 
ceived." Where  Turotti  got  this  interview,  I  know  not,  but,  as  the  Italian 
proverb  says,  Se  non  e  i^ero.  e  hen  trouato  ;  it  contains  nothing  unfair  to  what 
we  know  of  Ferdinand's  character  or  to  the  moral  standard  of  the  Neapoli- 
tan clergy. 


NAPLES    IN    REVOLUTION.  247 

on  me  of  picking  him  up,  —  for  he  has  the  unfortunate 
habit  of  always  throwing  himself  down.  Many  kings 
fancy  that  the  throne  is  only  an  armchair,  in  which  one 
can  sleep  quite  comfortably.  In  the  year  1821,  however, 
a  seat  of  this  kind  is  inconvenient  to  sleep  in,  and  badly 
stuffed."^  "Picking  Ferdinand  up  "  meant  sending  an 
Austrian  army  to  subdue  and  occupy  Naples ;  it  meant  a 
warning  to  Liberals  throughout  Europe,  that  any  attempt 
of  theirs  to  wrest  concessions  from  their  despotic  rulers 
would  be  punished  by  the  combined  forces  of  the  Holy 
Alliance;  further,  it  established  the  precedent  of  foreign 
interference  in  the  internal  affairs  of  an  independent 
State,  and  it  familiarized  Europe  with  the  idea  that  when 
anything  went  amiss  in  Italy,  Austria  was  naturally  the 
Power  to  step  in  and  set  it  right.  While,  therefore,  he 
despised  Ferdinand,  Metternich  must  have  felt  grateful  to 
his  incompetence  for  furnishing  an  excuse  for  Austria's 
encroachment.  The  Congress  speedily  accepted  Metter- 
nich's  view  that  it  could  have  no  dealings  with  the  "pro- 
duct of  a  revolution:  "  it  refused  to  listen  to  any  partisans 
of  the  Constitutionalists;  and  it  empowered  Austria  to 
dispatch  forces  to  restore  the  legitimate  sovereign,  —  if 
more  were  needed  the  Czar  woidd  send  an  army.  Even 
Capo  d'  Istria,  finding  th:it  Metternich  had  converted  the 
Czar,  changed  his  course  and  proposed  to  S})in  a  web  of 
respectability  over  Ferdinand's  perfidy  by  forging  a  cor- 
respondence in  which  it  should  ap])eai'  that  Ferdinand 
protested  against  the  violation  of  the  government  he  had 
sworn  to  upliold,  and  that  the  monarchs  would  not  listen 
to  him."  Hut  this  trick  was  deemed  futile:  the  Congress 
decided  that  its  acts  needed  no  defense.  On  February  G 
Metternicli  wrote,  ""  To-day  sixty  thousand  men  will 
ci'oss  the  Po.  In  less  than  thirty  days  they  will  sit  in  the 
curul(!  chairs  of  the  l*arthen(»[)ean  lawgiver  as  a  proof 
that  there  is  no  procrastination  with  nie.  My  enemies 
'  Mc'ltoriiifli,  iii.   tT'.i.  -  Fytre,  ii,  IKH). 


248  THE   DAWN   OP   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

must  find  me  very  inconvenient."  ^  Thus  did  our  Briun- 
mel- Jupiter  gather  the  storm,  and  grasp  the  thunder-bolts 
firmly  in  his  kid-gloved  hand. 

In  Naples,  after  the  King's  departure,  men  began  to 
realize  that  should  the  King's  mission  fail,  they  might 
have  to  defend  themselves  against  an  invasion.  By  in- 
sisting on  "the  Spanish  Constitution  or  death,"  they  had 
left  no  scope  for  negotiations.  But  they  were  still  intox- 
icated with  their  good  fortune  and  still  prone  to  mistake 
their  tumultuous  energy  for  enduring  strength.  Whilst 
Parliament  discussed  reforms  in  the  judicial  system  and 
then  adjourned,  public  order  became  more  unruly,  and 
violent  sectaries  resorted  to  violent  deeds.  Giampietro, 
odious  to  many  as  Director  of  Police,  was  dragged  from 
his  house  and  stabbed  forty  times  by  a  band  of  Carbo- 
nari, who  pinned  on  his  body  a  list  of  twenty -six  per- 
sons marked  for  assassination  ;  opposite  his  name  being 
written  the  words,  "Number  One."  ^  The  ministry  was 
reorganized,  but  stability  was  still  lacking.  From  time 
to  time  the  Regent  communicated  to  Parliament  the  let- 
ters he  received  from  his  father,  but  the  King  did  not 
refer  to  the  vital  issues  under  discussion  in  the  Congress, 
and  had  nothing  more  important  to  relate  than  that  his 
hunting  dogs  were  better  than  the  Czar's.  Letters  from 
Duke  del  Gallo,  who  had  been  prevented  by  Metternich 
from  appearing  at  Laybach  to  speak  in  behalf  of  the 
Constitutionalists,  renewed  the  apprehensions  of  danger, 
and  the  Regent  called  a  council  of  generals  to  draw  u]i 
a  plan  of  defense.  Here,  too,  the  lack  of  fii'mness  and 
leadership  was  ominous.  Personal  discords  and  military 
jealousies,  the  old  feud  between  the  Bourbonists  and 
Muratists,  and  the  new  hostility  between  Carbonari  and 
non-sectaries,  boded  ill  for  the  national  cause.  More 
than  eighty  thousand  conscripts  were  levied,  but  they 
mustered  less  than  fifty  thousand  soldiers,  undrilled  and 
^  Metternich,  iii,  4So-4.  ^  Colletta,  ii,  395-6. 


NAPLES   IN   REVOLUTION.  249 

ill-equipped.  Nevertheless,  the  Carbonari  kept  up  popu- 
lar enthusiasm,  even  at  the  risk  of  encouraging  delusive 
hopes.  They  drew  succor  from  history  and  recalled  how 
the  French  people,  roused  to  a  frenzy  of  patriotism,  had, 
with  far  inferior  forces,  defeated  the  veterans  of  Prussia 
and  Austria  in  1792.  What  might  not  a  people,  united 
and  fighting  for  freedom,  accomplish  against  the  minions 
of  tyranny? 

At  last  the  suspense  was  broken  by  the  arrival  of 
Duke  del  Gallo,  who  had  been  permitted  to  enter  Lay- 
bach  after  Metternich  had  dictated  the  policy  of  the 
Congress.  He  brought  a  letter  from  the  King  to  the 
Regent,  which  the  latter  laid  before  Parliament,  recon- 
vened for  that  purpose.  Ferdinand  wrote  that  he  found 
the  Great  Powers  "irrevocably  determined  not  to  permit 
a  continuation  of  the  present  state  of  things;  "  that  they 
would  use  force,  if  persuasion  were  not  enough;  but 
that,  if  their  conditions  were  accei)ted,  the  measures  to  be 
adopted  should  be  guided  wholly  by  Ferdinand;  other- 
wise, he  intimated,  the  sovereigns  would  themselves  im- 
pose measures  on  Naples  to  insure  the  tranquillity  of 
that  kingdom  and  the  peace  of  the  neighboring  States.^ 
The  Regent,  after  reading  this  letter  and  promising  to 
remain  loyal,  exhorted  the  deimties  "to  be  prudent,  cau- 
tious, and  firm;  "  but  "it  was  observed  that  when  remind- 
ing them  of  the  danger  and  repeating  his  oath,  his  voice 
faltered,  as  if  choked  by  some  sudden  emotion."  "  .losepli 
Poerio,  one  of  the  most  intelligent  of  the  ^loderates, 
s|)oke  in  defense  of  the  King.  It  was  inei-edible.  lie  said, 
that  Ferdinand  liad  sanctioned  this  ])ei'fidy,  foi-  lie  had 
freely  granted  the  (\)nstitution  in  ,Iuly  and  freely  rati- 
fied it  in  October;  the  ])resuni])tion  must  be,  therefore, 
that  the  sovereigns  having  him  in  their  ])ower  at  Laybaeh 
had  frightened  him  into  this  recantation  of  his  ])iin('i|)les ; 
his  honor,  not  less  than  that  of   his  kingdom,  di'mauded 

1  Text  in  Collytta,  ii,  :;',»'.)- KK).  -   ll,i,l,  401. 


250  THE   DAWN   OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

that  the  Neapolitans  should  take  up  the  challenge  of  war. 
And  war,  clamored  for  in  the  streets,  was  declared  in  the 
Chamber  and  sanctioned  by  the  liegent. 

Then  was  there  much  bustle  of  preparation  and  little 
results.  The  men  in  the  bureaux  at  Naples  had  no  expe- 
rience in  mobilizing  and  provisioning  an  army;  the  men 
in  the  camps  were  ill-clad  and  undisciplined.  A  consid- 
erable part  of  the  regular  troops  was  still  in  Sicily,  pre- 
serving order  by  martial  law.  The  populace,  confronted 
with  the  grim  certainty  of  war,  shrank  from  the  death- 
grapple.  Most  of  the  recruits  came  from  the  Carbonari, 
who  showed  in  this  that  they  were  not  afraid  to  fight; 
but  the  rank  a  Carbonaro  held  in  his  lodge,  if  superior 
to  his  rank  in  the  regiment,  produced  a  conflict  of  author- 
ity; a  private  or  subaltern  who  was  a  Grand  Master 
chafed  at  the  commands  of  a  captain  who  was  not  a  Car- 
bonaro at  all.  Nevertheless,  an  imposing  campaign  of 
defense  was  sketched  on  paper.  The  first  army  corps, 
under  CoUetta,  was  to  guard  the  frontier  along  the  Liris ; 
the  second,  under  William  Pepe,  was  to  be  stationed  in 
the  Abruzzi,  by  which  it  was  expected  the  enemy  would 
invade  the  kingdom.  Pepe  spared  no  effort  to  prepare 
his  raw  troops  for  the  encounter;  he  drilled  them,  he 
talked  to  them  of  glory  and  of  duty;  he  assured  them 
that  they  would  be  more  than  a  match  for  the  white- 
coated  veterans  of  Austria.  But  day  by  day  passed,  and 
no  supplies  or  reinforcements  came  from  Naples,  and 
day  by  day  General  Frimont,  with  that  Austrian  army 
sixty  thousand  strong,  was  drawing  near.  At  length  its 
vanguard  appeared  near  Rieti.  Pepe's  troops  began  to 
desert ;  he  perceived  that  the  suspense  was  melting  their 
courage,  and  therefore,  though  he  would  have  })referred 
to  await  an  attack,  he  was  forced  to  give  the  order  to  ad- 
vance. His  troops  engaged  the  Austrians  between  An- 
trodoco  and  Ivieti  (March  7),  and  fought  with  considerable 
valor,   but  when  he  found  that   they  were   gaining  no 


NAPLES    IN    REVOLUTION.  251 

ground,  he  signaled  them  to  fall  back.  The  undisciplined 
soldiers  construed  a  retreat  to  mean  a  rout,  and  many 
threw  away  their  arms  and  fled;  nor  could  Pepe  rally  a 
remnant  sufficiently  large  to  enable  him  to  make  another 
stand  against  the  enemy  in  the  mountain  passes.^ 

Desperate,  he  hurried  to  Naples  to  collect  a  fresh  force, 
and  to  urge  the  Regent  and  Parliament  to  take  refuge 
in  Sicily;  the  war  had  but  just  begun,  he  said,  and  it 
would  not  be  decided  by  a  single  skirmish;  let  the  na- 
tion rise  in  mass  and  dispute  every  inch  of  soil,  and  the 
Austrians  must  surely  be  repelled.  Ilis  entreaties  fell 
on  ears  in  which  the  booming  of  Austrian  cannon  struck 
terror.  The  few  who  listened  to  him  whispered  rumors 
that  but  for  incompetence  or  treachery  he  would  not  have 
been  defeated ;  but  the  greater  part  of  the  Neapolitans 
were  busy  concocting  excuses  by  which  they  hoped  to  save 
themselves  from  the  retribution  which  previous  restora- 
tions had  taught  them  to  expect.  Ferdinand,  lurking 
well  out  of  danger  in  the  rear  of  the  Austrian  army, 
emitted  numifestoes  in  which  he  called  u])on  liis  faithful 
subjt'cts  to  receive  the  forces  of  his  august  allies  not  as 
enemies,  but  as  friends  come  to  protect  them.  Gen(n'al 
Frimont  exhorted  them  to  listen  to  the  royal  and  paternal 
voice  of  their  King,  whose  interests  wtsre  inseparable  from 
theirs.  I^irliamcnt,  still  plucky,  addressed  a  letter  to 
Ferdinand,  begging  liim  to  remember  tliat  it  had  merely 
exercised  functions  which  he  liimself  liad  granted  it,  aiul 
re(piesting  him  to  return  to  his  people  and  ex])ress  liis 
wishes  to  tliem,  witliout  inter])osing  a  foreign  force  be- 
tween him  and  tlicni.  Wlien  tlie  Austrians  were  within 
a  sliort  marcli  of  tlie  eajjital,  the  (le])uties  adopted  a  formal 
])rotest,  di'awn  up  by  Poei'io,  stating  that  the  ])reseni'e  of 
a  foreign  army  obliged  them  to  snspend  tlicir  business 
and  tliat,  according  to  tlie  rej)oi-t  of  the  Kegent,  tlie  latest 
reverses  made  it  im])ossil)le  to  transfer  the  Parliament  to 
a  place  of  safety,      (iencral  Cai-rascosa  had  alieady  been 

'    Pt'pe  :    Hi /(ilinii,  ')~-~'>. 


252  THE   DAWN   OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

commanded  to  negotiate  with  General  Frimont,  and  on 
March  23  the  Austrian  troops  entered  Naples  by  the 
Capuan  gate.  Some  of  the  leading  revolutionists,  includ- 
ing Pepe,  had  fled  when  they  found  that  to  remain  was 
hopeless.^  Besides  the  foreign  invaders  and  the  Bour- 
bons, the  only  creatures  in  Naples  who  rejoiced  that  day 
were  the  barbers,  who  were  kept  busy  cropping  the  tell- 
tale locks  and  beards  of  frightened  Carbonari. 

The  revolution  which  thus  failed  had,  like  many 
human  undertakings  of  larger  note,  a  comic  aspect.  The 
gods  who  favor  the  strong  may  well  have  smiled  at  the 
presumption  of  four  or  five  million  Neapolitans  who  dared 
to  assert  their  manhood  against  the  menaces  of  tyrants, 
holding  one  hundred  million  Europeans  in  subjection; 
they  may  have  smiled  at  the  self-confidence  of  men  who, 
without  education  or  experience,  believed  themselves  able 
to  conduct  a  constitutional  government,  and  to  reform  by 
legislative  fiat  the  character  of  a  people  debased  by  cen- 
turies of  corruption ;  they  may  have  smiled  to  see  discord 
instead  of  harmony,  factional  zeal  mistaken  for  patriot- 
ism, private  envy  weakening  arms  raised  for  the  public 
good.  But  there  are  other  gods  who  look  with  kindlier 
eyes  upon  the  failures  and  mistakes  of  men ;  true  gods, 
who  "sigh  for  the  cost  and  pain"  when  the  worthy  hopes 
of  mortals  are  disappointed;  whose  hearts  are  touched 
with  sympathy  when  they  behold  men  abandon  ease  and 
fortune  and  life  itself  to  pursue  a  noble  ideal,  without 
measuring  obstacles,  or  dreaming  of  defeat,  gods  who 
wove  crowns  of  glory  for  Leonidas  and  his  three  hundred 
dead,  and  scorned  Xerxes  and  his  victorious  myriads  at 
Thermopylae.  To  them,  the  tragedy  of  human  life  is 
ever  present :  doubt  not  that  they  sorrowed  at  the  disaster 
in  Naples ;  doubt  not  that  their  sympathy  was  with  those 
misguided,  beaten  enthusiasts,  rather  than  the  cynical 
Metternich  and  the  perfidious  King. 

1  The   best  account  of  the   fall  &f  the  constitutional  governmeut  is  in 
Pepe's  Relation ;  other  authorities  corroborate  his  statements. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE   REVOLUTION   IN   PIEDMONT,    1821. 

The  excitement  of  the  year  1820  sped  northward  from 
Naples,  and  found  in  ahnost  all  parts  of  Italy  smouldering 
embers  which  might  easily  have  been  fanned  into  a  blaze, 
had  not  the  firemen  of  the  Absolutist  princes  been  on 
hand  with  their  engines.  In  the  Papal  States  small  fires 
did,  indeed,  break  out,  and  at  Parma  and  Modena  incen- 
diaries were  on  the  alert.  But  although  the  year  passed 
without  a  general  conflagration,  the  successes  of  the 
Nea})olitans  emboldened  patriots  everywhere.  The  sects 
plotted  more  busily  and  less  vaguely,  for  they  had  now 
a  definite  s(;heme. 

In  Lombardy  the  best  men  were  in  the  movement. 
They  had  founded  at  Milan  a  literary  newspaper  called 
11  Conciliatorc,  which,  though  devoted  to  literature 
and  criticism,  appealed,  so  far  as  the  strict  censorshij) 
permitted,  to  ])atriotic  sentiments.  Manzoni,  (^)nfa- 
lonieri,  Porro,  Silvio  Pellico,  and  others  wliose  social 
position  or  intellectual  ability  mad(^  them  respected,  and 
wlio  were  known  for  their  Liberal  aspirations,  conducted 
this  journal,  and  some  of  them,  notably  Confalonieri, 
promotcsd  reforms  ff)r  eidiglitening  the  masses  and  im- 
]tr()ving  their  material  condition.  They  organized  night 
schools  and  societies  for  mutual  su]i])()rt:  they  formed  a 
com])any  to  light  Milan  ])y  gas  and  to  introduce  steam- 
})oats  on  the  Po.  Tlie  Austriaiis  watched  tliese  effoi'ts 
suspiciously,  but  as  yet  they  espied  no  ti'casonable  intent 
up(tn  which  tyranny  iniglit  pounce.  Still,  it  was  prob- 
abl(!  that  these  j)hilanthro])ic  gentlemen   had  secret   rda- 


254  THE   DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

tions  with  the  conspirators;  education  leads  so  easily  to 
Liberalism,  and  philanthropy  to  patriotism.  And  the 
sects  were,  indeed,  active  in  Lombardy.  Under  the 
Napoleonic  regime  that  had  been  the  most  flourishing 
province  of  the  Kingdom  of  Italy;  its  ablest  men  had 
been  employed  in  the  army  or  in  the  government,  and 
they  chafed  under  the  rusting  idleness  into  which  they 
had  been  forced  by  the  restoration.  But,  as  they  had 
had  more  experience  than  the  other  Italian  plotters,  so 
they  were  more  prudent.  Estimating  the  chances  in 
favor  of  a  rising  against  Austria,  they  found  that,  them- 
selves unaided,  the  struggle  would  go  against  them.  To 
secure  allies  was  therefore  their  purpose,  and  they  dis- 
patched emissaries  to  sound  the  intentions  and  to  gauge 
the  strength  of  the  sects  beyond  the  Ticino. 

In  Piedmont  the  situation  was  peculiar.  As  at  Milan 
the  leaders  of  the  Liberals  belonged  to  the  most  intelli- 
gent and  aristocratic  classes ;  they  were  as  eager  as  any 
other  Italians  for  independence,  but,  unlike  the  other 
Italians,  they  were  attached  to  their  King.  They  inher- 
ited a  loyalty  to  the  House  of  Savoy  that  had  l^een 
strengthened  by  the  courage  and  fair  dealing  of  the 
princes  of  that  dynasty  for  more  than  two  hundred  years. 
When  Victor  Emanuel  came  back  from  exile  in  1814, 
they  had  rejoiced  as  at  the  return  of  a  father,  and  now 
they  had  no  wish  to  dethrone  him.  Nevertheless,  his 
paternal  despotism  was  intolerable :  the  Jesuits  had  con- 
trol of  public  worship  and  of  education ;  the  civil  offices 
were  in  the  hands  of  inflexible  reactionaries;  the  army 
and  the  Court  were  petrified  by  Pre-Napoleonic  methods. 
Officers  who  had  won  renown  at  Austerlitz  or  Borodino 
grumbled  to  see  themselves  displaced  by  men  who  had 
slumbered  through  fourteen  years  of  exile  in  Sardinia; 
scarred  veterans  laughed  at  being  officered  by  young  grad- 
uates from  the  military  school,  whose  only  reeommonda- 
tion  was  that  they  were  aristocrats  ""by  the  grace  of  God." 


THE   REVOLUTION    IN   PIEDMONT.  255 

The  bourgeoisie  complained  at  the  revival  of  obsolete  cus- 
toms which  made  business  precarious,  and  at  arbitrary 
interference  with  the  tenure  of  property.  Only  the  peas- 
antry, the  long-suffering  peasantry,  obedient  and  still 
inarticulate,  uttered  no  murmurs  as  they  sowed  their  rice 
in  the  swamps  and  garnered  their  maize  in  the  plains. 

This,  then,  was  the  problem  before  the  Piudmontese 
Liberals,  how  to  secure  a  constitutional  government  with- 
out removing  their  autocratic  King.  The  abuses  were 
there,  the  desire  for  freedom  was  there;  and  there  was 
Victor  Emanuel,  a  sovereign  as  deeply  imbued  as  any 
in  Europe  with  the  old  notions  about  kingship.  The 
conspirators  hit  upon  a  strange  solution,  they  would  make 
the  King  their  accomplice !  Assuming  that  the  misdeeds 
under  wliicjh  the  country  groaned  were  due  to  his  ministers 
and  not  to  himself,  they  counted  upon  his  benevolent  dis- 
position to  grant  the  petition  of  his  subjects  so  soon  as 
their  desires  shoidd  be  unmistakably  expressed.  Hith- 
erto the  ministry  had  acted  as  a  dead-wall  beyond  which 
no  appeals  could  penetrate  to  the  sovereign;  but  now 
these  patriotic  zealots  would  raise  so  loud  a  cry  that  the 
sovereii^Ti  must  hear  it.  And  they  ])roposed,  moreover, 
to  strengtlien  their  cause  by  including  the  territorial 
aggrandizement  of  tlii^  House  of  Savoy  in  their  scheme. 
Long  had  the  Piedmontese  princes  bided  their  tinu*  thci-e, 
in  the  northwestern  corner  of  Italy;  France  liad  swept 
down  upon  tliem  from  the  west,  Austria  from  the  east ; 
yet  resolutely  and  unchangcHl  had  they  waited.  Theirs 
was  now  the  only  native  dynasty  in  Italy,  the  only  dy- 
nasty which  could  rely  upon  the  devotion  of  its  people. 
And  now  fortunt;  approaelied,  holding  tlie  long-coveted 
j)rize  towards  them.  Had  Victor  Kmanuel  foi-gotten 
that  maxim  of  his  ancestor,  Kmanuel  Philibert,  "Italy  is 
an  artichoke,  to  be  <'aten  leaf  by  h>af"?  Ha<l  lie  re- 
nounced th(?  hereditaiy  aniliit ion  of  his  family  ?  \\  ould 
he    refuse   to   add    Lombaidy    to    liis    kingdom,   when    he 


256  THE   DAWN   OF   ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

knew  that  the  Lombards  were  ready,  at  a  sign  from  Pied- 
mont, to  rise  and  expel  their  Austrian  enslavers?  And 
if  Lombardy,  why  not  Venice  ?  Why  should  not  the  flag 
of  an  independent  and  Liberal  Italy  fly  over  every  town 
from  the  Alps  to  the  Adriatic  ? 

To  patriots  who  saw  the  Promised  Land  thus  in  mirage, 
the  way  «eemed  short.  Not,  indeed,  that  they  had  no 
differences  of  opinion.  There  were  Lombards  who  in- 
sisted that  Lombardy  should  be  an  independent  State; 
there  were  Federatists  who  proposed  a  league,  without 
even  a  nominal  sovereign,  for  the  Northern  Italians, 
including  the  Tuscans;  there  were  Radicals  whom  only 
a  republic  could  satisfy.  As  beggars  discuss  what  they 
will  do  with  a  fortune,  they  even  discussed  which  city 
should  be  the  future  capital:  the  Piedmontese  could  not 
consent  to  have  Turin  relegated  to  second  place;  the 
Lombards  argued  that  Milan  would  be  central,  and  they 
remembered  her  glory  under  Viceroy  Beauharnais;  and 
there  were  partisans  for  both  Genoa  and  Venice.  Mean- 
while, the  most  urgent  need  was  to  oust  the  Austrians 
and  to  convince  Victor  Emanuel  that  his  revolutionary 
subjects  were  conspiring  in  his  behalf. 

The  reliance  felt  by  the  conspirators  in  their  ability  to 
arouse  the  dynastic  ambition  of  the  House  of  Savoy  was 
not  so  Quixotic  as  it  at  first  seems;  their  error  lay  in  mis- 
judging Victor  Emanuel's  character  and  in  being  ignorant 
of  his  diplomatic  engagements.  Many  of  his  predecessors 
had  dreamed  that  the  King  of  Piedmont  would  some  day 
rule  over  a  larger  Italy.  In  1804  Joseph  4e  Maistre, 
one  of  the  acutest  political  observers  of  his  time,  had 
written  that  the  chief  reason  why  Austria  must  hate  the 
House  of  Savoy  "is  its  tendency  to  increase  its  domin- 
ions, and  its  being  called  to  greater  Italian  possessions  by 
universal  good  sense  and  by  regard  for  the  safety  of  the 
Peninsula  and  of  all  Europe.  This  is  the  great  crime  of 
the  House  of  Savoy,  that  its  powerful  neighbor  has  never 


THE    REVOLUTION    IN    PIEDMONT.  257 

forgiven."  1  In  1814  Valesia,  Piedmontese  Minister  of 
Foreign  Affairs,  urged  Victor  Emanuel  not  to  let  slip  the 
opportunity  to  act;  above  all,  he  said,  "let  the  Italian 
national  spirit  be  cherished."^  Later,  the  King  himself, 
as  we  have  seen,  firmly  resisted  both  the  threats  and  the 
blandishments  of  Austria  in  her  attempt  to  secure  the 
Upper  Novarese  and  to  coerce  Piedmont  into  a  league. 
But  when  the  Spanish  and  Neapolitan  revolutions  broke 
out,  Metternich  stampeded  the  King  and  his  ministers  by 
prophesying  ruin  to  those  legitimate  monarchs  who  lived 
at  the  mercy  of  rebellious  subjects,  instead  of  accepting 
the  protection  of  the  Holy  Alliance.  Piedmont  unwit- 
tingly fell  into  the  ambush  of  her  hercditai-y  enemy,  and 
made  terms  with  the  sovereigns  at  Troj)i)au,  but  slie  wished 
so  far  as  she  might  to  reserve  independence  of  action  in 
her  own  concerns.^ 

The  conspirators  knew  of  these  negotiations,  but  not 
precisely,  and  they  made  their  knowledge  help  the  patri- 
otic cause.  Was  it  not  their  duty,  they  asked,  to  rescue 
their  noble  King  from  the  bondage  to  Austria  into  which 
he  had  been  delivered  through  the  perfidy  or  incomi>e- 
tence  of  his  advisers?  Let  him  but  see  that  his  d<', voted 
people  were  bent  on  restoring  him  to  the  liberty  his  race 
had  most  highly  valued,  and  he  must  approve.  So  loyal 
were  the  motives,  so  plausible  the  arguments  of  these 
unselfish  cons])irators ! 

The  year  1820  was  touching  its  end  without  witnessing 
any  att(!m])t  to  effectuate  these  ])lans.  A  new  ministry, 
coinposed  of  abler  and  milder  men,  hud  been  formed,  but 
the  autocratic  ])rincii)le  had  in  nowise  been  renounc'cd  by 
the  King.  The  })lott(n-s  dri^amcd  and  talked  and  eon- 
spired,  and  after  every  consultation  they  believed  more 
earnestlv  that  their  })rojeet  was  so  rational  that  it  had 
only  to  b(*  revealed  in  order  to  eonviiiee  everybody.  Tlie 
Carbonari  fraternized  with  the  Federatists,  and  both  were 

1  Biuiiclii,  i,  4.').  -^  Ibid,  47.  8  Ibiil,  ii,  11>-1S. 


258  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

busy  enrolling  converts.  Even  those  Liberals  who  would 
not  associate  themselves  with  any  sect,  knew  of  the  general 
scheme  and  gave  it  an  abstract  encouragement.  The  ring- 
leaders were,  with  but  a  few  exceptions,  officers  of  dis- 
tinction; therefore,  they  naturally  determined  that  the 
army  should  be  the  immediate  agent  of  the  revolution.  If 
the  army  demanded  the  Constitution,  how  could  Victor 
Emanuel  resist?  For  he,  like  his  fathers,  was  a  military 
king  and  must  accept  the  preferences  of  his  troops  as 
indicative  of  the  will  of  his  people.  Many  subalterns  and 
battalions  having  been  won  over,  it  only  remained  to  find 
a  general  whose  reputation  would  give  dignity  and  whose 
ability  would  give  a  successful  direction  to  the  movement. 
The  man  for  the  place  was  unquestionably  Gifflenga, 
who,  of  all  the  Piedmontese  officers,  had  most  distin- 
guished himself  in  the  Napoleonic  wars;  but  Gifflenga 
declined  the  honor,  deeming  the  time  unpropitious  and 
the  hazards  too  great.  Then  the  conspirators  turned  to 
Charles  Albert,  Prince  of  Carignano,  and  they  thought 
that  they  had  in  him  a  leader  whose  name  would  be  irre- 
sistible. 

This  singular  man  was  then  only  twenty -two  years  old, 
but  he  had  already  outlived  many  vicissitudes.  Born  in 
1798,  just  on  the  eve  of  the  French  invasion,  his  infancy 
had  the  roll  of  drums  and  the  tramp  of  regiments  for  lul- 
labies. His  father,  Charles,  was  head  of  the  younger 
branch  of  the  House  of  Savoy;  his  mother,  Charlotte 
Albertina  of  Saxe-Courland,  coming  when  still  in  her 
teens  to  Turin,  startled  its  prim  Court  by  her  free-and- 
easy  yet  not  ungracious  manners.  When  King  and  Court 
fled  to  Sardinia  and  Piedmont  became  a  province  of  the 
French  Republic,  Charles  of  Carignano  turned  Republi- 
can, donned  a  liberty  cap,  and  styled  himself  Citizen. 
Citizeness  Charlotte,  unconventional  always,  visited  her 
husband  on  duty  at  barracks,  discoursed  vehemently  in 
the  dialect  of  Jacobinism,  and  even,  it   is   said,   danced 


THE   REVOLUTION   IN    PIEDMONT.  259 

the  Carmagnole  to  the  delectation  of  the  French  officers.^ 
The  good  Citizen  and  Citizeness  were  nevertheless  sus- 
pected, and  summoned  to  Paris,  where  they  dwelt  under 
surveillance.  In  1800  Charles  died,  and  for  several 
years  his  widow  with  her  boy,  Charles  Albert,  and  a 
younger  sister,  Elizabeth,  lived  precariously.  Then 
Napoleon  suddenly  relented  and  showered  favors  upon 
them,  being  attracted,  gossips  whispered,  by  the  per- 
sonal charms  of  Madame  de  Carignan.  She,  however, 
married  an  obscure  gentleman,  M.  de  Montleart,  by 
whom  she  bore  several  children,  leaving  her  son  Charles 
Albert  to  the  care  of  boarding-school  masters,  first  in 
France  and  then  in  Switzerland.  The  boy  was  naturally 
of  an  affectionate  but  melancholy  temper;  he  craved 
tenderness  which  no  one  showed  him ;  he  was  homesick 
for  a  home  he  had  never  seen.  Ilis  jumbled  experience 
puzzled  his  youtlif ul  will ;  from  his  earliest  days  he  had 
heard  the  conflicting  doctrines  of  Republicanism  and  Im- 
perialism, and  though  nominally  a  Catholic,  he  was  now 
confided  to  a  Swiss  Protestant.  Another  change,  and  he 
found  himself  at  Bourges  with  a  lieutenant's  commission 
in  a  re<;iment  of  French  drajroons. 

When  Na})oleon's  downfall  permitted  the  King  of  Pied- 
mont to  return  to  Turin,  Charles  Albert  also  returned 
thither.  With  what  suspicion  the  lad  of  sixteen  was  re- 
ceived by  the  rigid  Victor  Emanuel  we  can  easily  iuiag- 
ine;  still,  tlie  youth  was  not  wholly  to  blame  for  Ills  career 
among  Jacobins  and  Bonapartists,  and,  moreover,  lie  was 
heir  to  tlie  throne  of  Piedmont.  Vietoi-  Emanuel  liad 
oidy  daughters,  wliom  the  Salic  law  cut  oft'  from  the  suc- 
cession;  ilis  brother,  Charles  Felix,  was  childless;  there- 
fore, at  the  death  of  Victor  Emaimel  and  Charles  Felix 
the  crown  would  ])ass  to  the  young  Prince  of  Carignaiio. 
Charles    Albeit    had    already  lieeu    the    subject    of    many 

'   lJi'aiirc}j-ar<l  dn  ("osta:   Pmloiinf  il'nn  litgiu  (I'aris,  ISS','),  10  ;  (Jalleiiga  : 
Iltst.  uf  I'itdmunt  (Loudon,  is")")),  iii,  •VJM. 


260  THE   DAWN   OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

diplomatic  wiles,  for  Metternich  knew  his  royal  pedigrees 
as  a  parson  knows  his  catechism,  and  he  hoped  to  lop  off 
the  Carignano  branch  of  the  family-tree  of  Savoy,  and 
to  engraft  an  Austrian  scion  in  its  stead.  Accordingly, 
he  persuaded  Victor  Emanuel  to  give  his  eldest  daughter 
in  marriage  to  her  uncle  the  Duke  of  Modena ;  then  he  left 
no  artifice  untried  in  attempting  to  have  the  Salic  law 
revoked.  Failing  in  this,  he  requested  that  Charles  Al- 
bert should  be  sent  to  the  camp  of  the  Allies,  just  then 
celebrating  their  entry  into  Paris;  but  both  the  King 
and  his  brother  suspected  a  foul  design.  "Prince  Cari- 
gnano's  affair  is  not  less  disagreeable,"  wrote  the  latter. 
"I  have  expected  it  for  a  long  time.  If  I  may  give  you 
my  advice  frankly,  it  is  for  you  to  get  him  married  as 
soon  as  possible.  Otherwise,  either  they  will  kill  him,  or 
they  will  debauch  him  so  that  he  cannot  beget  an  heir,  or 
they  will  entangle  him  in  some  bad  marriage.  He  would 
be  quite  as  badly  off  at  Wellington's  headquarters  for 
religious  reasons,  as  with  the  Germans  for  the  other  con- 
sideration. 'T  is  a  great  trick,  open  your  eyes!  They 
have  treated  us  so  well  only  to  enjoy  our  spoils  later,  and 
to  make  an  end  of  the  House  of  Savoy."  ^  These  were 
serious  charges  to  be  made  against  Prince  Metternich  and 
his  imperial  master,  who  always  professed  to  act  from 
pure  Christian  motives;  but  Victor  Emanuel  saw  the 
danger,  and  guarded  the  scapegrace  youth  in  whose 
safety  the  perpetuation  of  the  Piedmontese  dynasty  was 
boimd  up.  The  order  of  succession  was  formally  de- 
clared by  the  Congress  of  Vienna  to  appertain  to  the 
Carignano  branch. 

The  young  Prince  was  therefore  established  at  Turin 
as  the  heir  presumptive  to  the  throne,  but  his  position 
was  not  agreeable.  He  was  taken  in  hand  by  the  King, 
who  strove  to  eradicate  in  "him  the  bad  impressions  of 
the  Liberal    education "  he    had  received.     The  Queen, 

^  Charles  Felix  to  Victor  Emanuol,  July  17,  1814 ;  Bianclii,  i,  306. 


THE   REVOLUTION    IN    PIEDMONT.  261 

Maria  Theresa,  hated  him  because,  true  Austrian  that 
she  was,  she  wished  the  succession  to  go  to  her  daughter, 
the  Duchess  of  Modena.  Charles  Felix  felt  a  personal 
antipathy  for  him,  mingled  with  distrust.  The  restored 
nobles  of  the  Old  Kegime  looked  upon  him  with  wonder 
and  suspicion,  as  if  a  wild  cygnet  had  alighted  amid  a  flock 
of  dodos.  Yet  by  his  youth,  his  tact,  and  his  submission 
to  the  King's  pi-ocess  of  disinfection,  Charles  Albert  won 
general  respect.  He  acquiesced  when  the  King  warned 
him  that  it  would  be  well  to  marry  as  soon  as  possible 
for  the  sake  of  an  heir,  and  accepted  Maria  Theresa, 
daughter  of  tlie  Archduke  of  Tuscany,  who  was  chosen 
for  him.  "Mathematically  speaking,  I  ought  to  be 
happy,"  he  wrote,  after  having  been  introduced  to  her. 
Sombre  shadows  already  flitted  through  his  mind.  Yet 
he  had  his  enthusiasms  —  who  has  them  not  at  twenty  ?  — 
his  gallantries,  his  love  of  horses,  his  fitful  hours  of  study. 
Deepest  in  his  heart  lay  patriotism,  still  a  vague  but  sweet 
sentiment,  not  yet  a  duty  calling  for  sjicrifices  and  leading 
to  danger.  The  petrified  manners,  the  prim,  servile  con- 
versation of  the  Court  nmst,  we  imagine,  have  cliilled 
one  whose  youthful  imagination  had  been  fired  by  the 
Napoleonic  world,  and  who  felt  that  his  life  was  a  reality 
and  not  a  reminiscence.  No  wonder,  therefore,  that  his 
boon  companions  were  men  of  the  younger  generation, 
most  of  whom  had  great  hopes  of  their  country's  future 
and  came  to  associate  him  with  the  fulfilling  of  their 
hopes.  Whether  they  wliispered  it  to  him  or  not,  he 
could  not  fail  to  perceive  that  lie  would,  in  the  course  of 
tilings,  be  in  the  ])osition  to  cheek  or  to  encourage  the 
aspirations  of  the  Picdmontese,  perhaps  of  all  their  bro- 
ther Italians.  lie  hated  Austria,  he  loved  liberty,  but 
his  lov(!  was  of  the  Platonic  kind.  Making  no  secret  of 
his  relations  with  men  of  Liberal  views,  whom  he  received 
cordially  at  his  ])alace,  Ik;  shocked  the  harsh  Chiirh's 
Felix  and  gave  rumor  many  tasks.      The  more  temperate 


262  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

critics  contented  themselves  by  the  thought  that  many- 
follies  and  much  sowing  of  wild  oats,  political  or  other, 
must  be  expected  of  a  lusty  young  prince.  Nevertheless, 
we  would  not  predict  evil  for  a  young  man  who  thus 
confessed  himseK  to  his  stanchest  friend :  "  I  read  much, 
I  study,  I  draw.  When  one  has  the  misfortune  to  be  a 
prince,  especially  at  this  time,  one  must  know  every- 
thing, more  than  mediocrely,  and  learn  to  suffice  unto 
oneself,  for  now  the  veil  has  fallen.  Princes  are  judged 
severely.  It  were  well  if  being  judged  were  all,  but, 
through  calumny,  our  estate  as  prince  is  only  tenable  for 
those  who  do  not  understand  it,  or  for  those  who  have 
enough  vigor  of  soul  to  follow  the  path  of  honor  through 
all  imaginable  vexations.  Unhappy  indeed  is  he  who  at 
all  distrusts  himself."  ^  That  a  prince  so  earnest  in  the 
main,  worthily  ambitious  and  having  kingship  in  pros- 
pect, should  welcome  the  most  intelligent  and  progressive 
of  his  future  subjects  is  no  more  wonderful  than  that  they 
should  have  spared  no  persuasiveness,  even  to  the  point 
of  flattery,  to  make  him  feel  that  destiny  had  marked  him 
out  to  be  the  glorious  instrument  of  his  covmtry's  welfare. 
He  and  they  were  mutually  deceived,  but  their  dece23tion 
was  born  of  good  intentions.  They  believed  that  when 
the  moment  came  to  strike  he  would  lead  them,  and  he  in 
his  glow  of  enthusiasm  believed  this  too.^  Neither  as  yet 
saw  how  incongruous  it  was  that  the  heir  to  an  Absolutist 
monarchy  should  conspire  to  force  the  actual  King,  his 
cousin,  towards  whom  he  felt  most  loyal,  to  grant  a  con- 
stitution. 

lielying  upon  the  cooperation  of  Charles  Albert,  the 
Liberals  set  about  priming  their  guns.  Further  delay 
might  ruin  the  plot.  Happily  the  news  came  that  Aus- 
tria intended  to  dispatch  an  army  to  subdue  the  Neapoli- 
tans.     Here  was  the  occasion  that  patriotic  Italians  had 

^  Beauregard,  88. 

2  Cf.  B.  Manzone  :  II  Conte  Moffa  di  Lisio  (Turin,  1882),  45-6. 


THE    REVOLUTION    IN    PIEDMONT.  263 

long  awaited.  The  invasion  of  Naples  would  draw  off 
many  regiments  from  Lombardy  and  Venetia,  and  encour- 
age the  conspirators  in  those  provinces  to  rise.  The  re- 
volt would  spread  through  the  Legations  and  the  Duchies, 
the  Austrian  army  would  be  hemmed  in  on  all  sides,  and 
the  issue  could  not  be  doubtful.  One  thing  was  indispen- 
sable :  Piedmont  nuist  give  the  signal  by  declaring  a  con- 
stitution and  marching  her  army  across  the  Ticino.  The 
gates  of  Milan  would  fly  open  to  welcome  it,  and  nothing 
could  stay  its  triumphal  progress  to  Mantua  and  Verona, 
perhaps  even  to  Venice. 

Whilst  this  general  revolt  was  ripening,  an  event  un- 
expectedly occurred  in  Turin  which  showed  the  state  of 
])02)ular  opinion  and  served  to  exasperate  the  temper  of 
the  various  partisans.  One  evening  a  company  of  uni- 
versity students  appeared  at  the  D'  Angennes  Theatre 
with  Phrygian  caps  on  tlieir  heads  (January  11,  1821). 
The  police,  making  grave  of  what  was  probably  mere 
youtliful  deviltry,  tried  to  arrest  them.  A  tussle  ensued, 
in  which  tlie  police  succeeded  in  carrying  off  several  pris- 
oners. Their  companions  flamed  with  indignation,  and 
declared,  what  was  true,  that  the  delinquents  ought  to  be 
tried  ))y  the  magistracy  of  the  University,  and  not  by  the 
criminal  court.  Tlic  carabineers  surrounded  the  Uni- 
versity; tlie  students  witliin  barricaded  tlie  entrance  and 
])re])ared  for  a  siege.  Count  Pros})ero  Balbo,  Cabinet 
Minister  and  President  of  the  University,  strove  to  ])a- 
cify  the  students,  and  went  to  lay  their  gi'ievance  before 
tli(^  King.  Put  presently  four  eonipanies  of  grenudiers 
marched  to  reinf(>rc(!  tlie  ])()lice,  and  the  contest  broke 
out.  The  soldiers  of  course  won,  but  not  without  receiv- 
ing many  hard  knocks.  Twenty-seven  wounded  students 
were  taken  to  tlie  hos])ital ;  the  rest  were  rusticated  to 
the  ])rovinces.  It  was  found  that  most  of  the  wounds 
liad  been  given  by  the  officers"  sabres  and  not  bv  the  sol- 
diers' l)ayonets;   and  this  increased  the  popular  hatred  of 


204  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

Thaon  di  Revel,  governor  of  the  city,  who  led  the  at- 
tack, and  his  officers;  but  the  outraged  citizens,  lacking 
force  to  retaliate,  had  to  content  themselves  by  dubbing 
the  aggressors  sabrers.  At  the  first  news  of  the  broil 
Charles  Albert  had  hastened  to  the  King  for  orders ;  but 
he  let  his  sympathy  be  seen  by  sending  money  and  deli- 
cacies to  the  wounded  students.^ 

An  ominous  calm  followed  this  accidental  outburst. 
The  government  knew  that  the  conspirators  were  active, 
but  waited  for  these  to  show  their  hand ;  the  conspira- 
tors, inferring  that  the  government  hesitated  through 
indifference  or  fear,  began  to  count  on  winning  an  easy 
game.  Had  they  been  less  confident,  they  would  have 
been  more  troubled  at  the  arrest  of  Prince  della  Cisterna, 
Marquis  di  Prierio,  and  Chevalier  Perrone,  three  conspic- 
uous personages,  upon  whom  were  found  incriminating 
papers.  But  there  is  reason  to  believe  that  they  were 
only  amateur  conspirators  uninvolved  in  the  great  plot, 
which  now  approached  maturity.^  The  main  course  had 
been  laid  down,  and  the  discussion  waxed  hot  over  details. 
What  sort  of  constitution  should  be  demanded  ?  —  that 
was  the  question.  One  party  advocated  the  Spanish,  an- 
other the  English  or  French.  The  Spanish  was  more 
democratic,  establishing  only  one  chamber;  the  others 
established  two  chambers,  an  upper  and  a  lower.  In  a 
country  like  Piedmont,  having  a  strong  aristocracy,  and 
among  conspirators  who  were  themselves  aristocrats,  a 
house  of  peers  ought  to  have  found  favor;  but  the  ma- 
jority voted  for  the  democratic  scheme.  For  the  Spanish 
Constitution  was  the  fashion  that  year,  and  the  conspira- 
tors wished  to  propitiate  the  middle  and  lower  classes, 
even  at  the  expense  of  their  own  aristocratic  traditions. 
And  now  all  was   ready;  instruction  had  been   sent  to 

1  Pog-gi,  i,  326-8 ;  Santarosa :  Rivoluzione  riemontese  del  1821  (Tuiiu, 
1850),  3S-44  ;  Beauregard,  145-6. 
^  Santarosa,  46. 


THE    REVOLUTION    IN    PIEDMONT.  265 

every  accomplice  in  the  army;  each  lodge  of  Carbonari 
or  Federatists  had  its  work  marked  out;  it  was  believed 
that  the  necessary  arrangements  with  the  Lombards  had 
been  concerted. 

On  the  evening  of  March  6  the  four  principal  con- 
spirators were  ushered  by  a  secret  staircase  into  Charles 
Albert's  library.  They  were  Lieutenant-Colonel  Mar- 
quis Charles  Asinari  di  San  Marzano,  of  the  Queen's 
Dragoons,  and  son  of  the  then  Minister  of  Foreign  Af- 
fairs; Count  Santorre  di  Santarosa,  major  of  infantry; 
Count  Moffa  di  Lisio,  captain  in  the  regiment  of  the 
King's  Light  Horse;  and  Chevalier  CoUegno,  major  of 
artillery.  Santarosa  thus  describes  the  interview: 
"Charles  di  San  Marzano  spoke  first:  his  words  were 
those  of  a  man  profoundly  convinced.  There  was  no 
obstacle,  no  difficulty  that  his  ardent  imagination  did 
not  clear  away ;  he  described  them  as  they  liad  been  fore- 
seen by  him,  but  all-powerless  before  the  ascendency  of 
a  firm  and  resolute  will.  The  others  explained  to  the 
Prince  that  they  had  Italy  and  posterity  in  view,  that  the 
Piedmontese  revolution  would  mark  the  most  glorious 
epoch  of  the  House  of  Savoy.  They  added,  and  the  fu- 
ture justified  their  words,  that  in  the  movement  prepared, 
nothing  sinister  to  the  King  and  his  family  was  to  be 
feared,  to  whom  our  breasts  would  l)e  a  sliield  on  every 
occasion.  Count  Santarosa  unfolded  one  by  one  the 
means  to  be  ad(>])ted  the  moment  the  i-evolution  occurred, 
in  onh'r  to  assure  internal  liberty  and  the  independence 
of  the  fatheiland.  Nothing  was  eonccMled  from  him,  and 
these  memorable  words  were  addri'ssed  to  him:  'Prince, 
(iverything  is  ready,  only  your  consent  is  wanting;  our 
friends  asseml)led  await  at  our  return  either  tiie  signal 
to  save  the  country,  or  the  fatal  annouucemeiit  that  their 
hopes  ai'e  vain.'  And  the  consent  was  given  by  Charles 
Albert."  i 

'  Saut.iros.i,  ''■'>. 


266  THE   DAWN   OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

The  Prince,  writing  of  this  interview  a  few  weeks  later, 
told  a  different  story.  These  gentlemen,  he  says,  after  a 
long  dissertation  on  Liberalism,  concluded  by  express- 
ing the  hope,  "that  I  would  put  myself  at  their  head  to 
obtain  some  slight  concessions  from  the  King.  I  replied 
to  them  that  the  only  course  open  to  me  was  that  marked 
out  by  religion  and  honor;  that  nothing  in  the  world 
would  make  me  abandon  my  duty.  I  then  sought  to 
reason  with  them  and  to  prove  to  them  the  folly  of  their 
enterprise ;  but  they  replied  that  my  words  were  futile, 
as  they  were  bound  by  the  strongest  of  oaths.  Then  I 
let  them  understand  point-blank  that,  if  I  could  not  pre- 
vent them  from  acting,  I  would  take  stand  against  them : 
I  discovered  with  amazement  that  the  greater  part  of  my 
artillery  officers  were  involved.  I  then  threatened  these 
gentlemen  that  I  would  go  to  the  King.  They  departed, 
saying  that  they  counted  on  the  secret;  that  they  hoped 
I  would  change  my  view,  and  finally,  that  the  revolution 
would  break  out  the  very  day  the  King  went  to  Monca- 
lieri."^  This  was  the  explanation  given  by  Charles  Al- 
bert, when,  having  been  branded  as  a  traitor  both  by  his 
former  friends  and  enemies,  he  strove  to  make  his  peace 
with  triumphant  Absolutism.  Did  his  memory  fail?  Did 
he  intentionally  falsify  ?  Did  he  impute  to  himself  in  the 
retrospect  a  decision  which  he  had  not  shown  at  the  crisis  ? 
Or  were  the  four  conspirators  so  bent  on  having  him  ac- 
cept, that  they  misinterpreted  his  words?  Let  who  can 
fasten  upon  the  truth  among  these  contradictions :  history 
can  assert  at  least  one  fact,  —  to  wit,  that  though  the 
Prince's  treachery  was  unintentional,  it  had  the  effects  of 
wilfid  betrayal.  Weakness  is  often  as  baneful  as  down- 
right wickedness. 

Santarosa  and  his  companions  quitted  the  Prince, 
firmly  persuaded  that  lie  had  given  his  consent.  Thus 
they  reported  to   their  eager  accomplices,  and  boundless 

1  Beauregarci,  llC-11. 


THE    REVOLUTION    IN    PIEDMONT.  267 

was  their  exultation.  The  word  was  passed  to  begin  the 
revolt  on  the  morning  of  March  8.  The  intervening  day 
dragged  for  those  men,  who,  after  years  of  hoping  and 
plotting,  saw  success  at  hand.  Great  was  their  con- 
sternation when,  towards  evening  on  March  7,  they  heard 
that  Charles  Albert  had  drawn  back.  Reflection  had 
painted  all  the  risks  of  the  undertaking  before  his  waver- 
ing imagination ;  the  patriotic  enthusiasm  engendered  by 
contact  with  the  persuasive  conspirators  gave  way  to 
doubt;  loyalty  to  the  King  outweighed  his  pledge  to  the 
patriots :  he  bowed  to  what  he  believed  to  be  his  duty, 
and  went  to  inform  the  Minister  of  War  that  he  had  inti- 
mations of  an  imminent  outbreak,  which  must  be  pre- 
vented, lie  sought  counsel  of  Cesare  Balbo  and  General 
Gifflenga,  who,  though  Liberals,  agreed  that  the  revolu- 
tion would  be  untimely,  and  that  the  ])r()posed  war  against 
Austria  for  the  liberation  of  Lombardy  must  fail.  Col- 
legno  and  San  Marzano,  at  the  flrst  tidings  of  the  Prince's 
defection,  hurried  to  brace  his  courage.  "They  pro- 
tested," he  wrote,  "that  I  would  ruin  them,  and  dishonor 
myself  in  the  eyes  of  Europe.  I  dismissed  my  tempters, 
adding  that  I  had  done  my  duty,  and  saved  them  from 
theinselves.  Then  they  sent  coiuiter-orders  everywhere, 
and  I  had  thus  the  satisfaction  of  hindering  the  execution 
of  tlie  lirst  plot."^  Tlie  orders  were  indeed  counter- 
manded, but  only  to  enable  tlie  desperate  leaders  to  make 
a  last  effort  to  win  back  the  Prinee.  On  ^larch  8  San 
]\Iarzano,  Santarosa,  and  San  Michele,  colonel  of  the 
Light  Horse,  had  a  final  interview  with  him.  They  as- 
sured liim  that  tliey  would  striki;  tlie  blow,  with  or  with- 
out his  consent;  but  mistrusting-  his  interference,  they 
concealed  the  hour  from  him.  Charles  Albert,  disingen- 
uously, it  ai)j)ears,  probed  in  v.iin  to  discover  their  secret. 
He  told  them  that  he  could  take  no  active  part  in  the  en- 
terj)rise,  but   that  he  synii)athi/.e(l   in  their  wish  to  secure 

'    I'.uaiin-anl.   llL'. 


268  THE   DAWN   OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

a  more  Liberal  regime.  Santarosa  construed  this  to 
mean  that  the  Prince  was  at  heart  with  them,  and  if  they 
were  bold  they  might  fix  his  fickle  resolution.  But  the 
following  morning  (March  9),  after  another  consultation 
in  which  Charles  Albert  again  attempted  to  unmask  their 
designs,  and  after  there  could  be  no  doubt  that  as  com- 
mander  of  the  artillery  he  had  taken  measures  to  frus- 
trate them,  Santarosa  with  grieving  soul  admitted  that 
the  movement  must  be  abandoned.  Messengers  were 
sent  to  Alessandria,  Fossano,  and  Vercelli  to  communi- 
cate this  decision  to  the  leaders  in  those  places. 

But  the  rescindment  came  too  late.  Early  on  March 
10  Turin  was  startled  to  learn  that  the  garrison  of  Fos- 
sano had  marched  out  under  Collegno,  whither  no  one 
knew,  and  that  the  garrison  of  Turin  was  under  marching 
orders.  Santarosa,  Lisio,  and  San  Marzano,  who  a  few 
hours  before  had  regarded  their  plot  as  abortive,  now  felt 
in  honor  bound  to  support  their  reckless  or  misinformed 
comrades,  and  accordingly  they  set  out  post-haste  for 
Alessandria.^  There  the  Carbonari,  assembling  in  the 
citadel,  had  quickly  been  joined  by  the  troops  in  acclama- 
tions for  the  Spanish  Constitution  and  for  the  King,  and 
a  Junta  had  been  organized  to  take  control  of  the  city. 

Victor  Emanuel,  returning  from  his  country-seat  at 
Moncalieri,  found  the  capital  excited  by  the  report  of 
these  events,  and  by  rumors  that  the  revolt  had  been 
caused  by  the  threat  of  an  Austrian  intervention.  The 
King  at  once  published  an  edict  in  which  he  denied  the 
rumors,  and  stated  that  the  intervention  of  foreign  troops 
in  Piedmont  would  only  happen  in  case  of  an  unauthor- 
ized movement  on  the  part  of  his  subjects.^  This  failed 
to  calm  the  feverish  Turinese,  for  the  sectaries  were  busy 
haranguing  and  exhorting,  and  each  hour  brought  news 
of  further  disaffection  among  tlie  troops.  The  whole 
country  seemed,  to  judge  by  the  gossip,  to  be  up  in  arms, 

^  B.  Manzone,  57.  ^  Text  in  Santarosa,  251-2. 


THE    REVOLUTION   IN   PIEDMONT.  269 

regiments  marching  hither  and  thither,  but  to  what  pur- 
pose none  could  tell.  The  King  and  his  courtiers  were 
in  consternation.  "There  is  here,"  wi'ites  Charles  Al- 
bert's equerry,  Costa,  "the  astonishment  of  Jonah  on 
awakening  suddenly  in  the  whale's  belly,  and  the  prophet 
doubtless  showed  himself  more  daring  and  inventive  than 
our  poor  King  in  seeking  an  outlet.  They  content  them- 
selves here  with  groaning  and  losing  their  heads."  ^  Yet 
there  was  something  pathetic  in  the  fidelity  of  the  old  no- 
bles to  their  sovereign  in  his  emergency.  Many  of  them 
seventy  years  old  and  some  eighty,  they  put  on  their  uni- 
form of  a  bygone  generation,  and  hastened  to  the  King, 
and  they  had  their  horses  led  within  the  palace  inclosure 
in  order  that,  were  it  decided  to  charge  the  threatening 
crowd,  they  might  be  lifted  into  the  saddle  by  their 
squires;  outside  they  feared  they  would  be  too  stiff  to 
mount  unattended.  Charles  Albert  was  among  the  ear- 
liest to  offer  his  services,  he  having  already  visited  the 
barracks  in  the  city  in  the  hope  that  his  example  and  ap- 
peals might  prevent  the  sedition  from  spreading.  At  the 
citadel  he  was  not  listened  to.  A  great  crowd,  in  which 
were  many  aristocratic  women,  surged  round  him  as  he 
returned  to  the  Palace.  They  flaiuited  a  tricolor  flag  be- 
fore him,  shouted  "Liberty  and  the  Constitution,"  and 
those  who  were  nearest  besought  liim  to  ])revail  upon  the 
King  to  make  concessions.  Thus  up  to  the  very  gates  of 
the  Palace  tliey  swarmed,  wliere  the  guards  alone  liin- 
dered  them  from  pressing  into  the  royal  })resenee-eham- 
ber. 

There  among  his  venerable  an<l  devoted  vassals  tlie 
King  was  liesitating.  He  would  have  got  on  liis  horse 
and  rebuked  the  insurgents,  but  the  govenu)r  of  tlie  city 
and  the  Minister  of  War  assured  liini  that  this  would  be 
a  useless  ex])()sure ;  ])ers()nal  couratie  lie  had, — it  was 
hereditary  in  the  House  of  Savoy,  — and  the  risk  did  not 

'   Huaun-anl.  111. 


270  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

frighten  him,  but  he  recognized  the  futility  and  remained 
in  his  palace.  What  was  to  be  done?  The  insurrection 
would  not  subside  of  itself,  yet  where  was  the  force  to 
quell  it?  The  King  and  his  faithful  nobles  deliberated, 
conflicting  suggestions  flew  out  against  each  other,  the 
indecision  increased.  Charles  Albert,  Count  Prospero 
Balbo,  and  Count  Valese  urged  that,  things  having  gone 
so  far,  it  would  be  expedient  to  promise  some  reforms. 
Marquis  Brignole  and  Count  Saluzzo  said  nothing.  The 
stubborner  councilors  exhorted  the  King  not  to  budge, 
and  he  agreed  with  them. 

Thus  two  days  passed;  in  the  Palace,  irresolution; 
outside,  the  flood  of  agitation  rising.  Once  an  officer, 
bleeding  from  a  stone-cut  in  the  face,  entered  the  King's 
cabinet  and  exclaimed:  "Sire,  give  me  leave,  and  with 
m}^  single  company  I  will  settle  this  matter  before  I  have 
my  wound  dressed."  Doubtless  a  dose  of  lead  would 
have  quieted  those  feverish  spirits;  doubtless  any  show 
of  firmness  would  have  checked  the  turbidence;  but  Vic- 
tor Emanuel  was  humane,  the  thought  of  shedding  blood 
displeased  him,  and  he  would  not  give  the  word.  The 
return  at  this  juncture  of  San  Marzano,  Minister  of  For- 
eign Affairs,  from  the  Congress  at  Laybaeh,  silenced  the 
advocates  of  conciliation,  for  he  reported  that  the  Allied 
Sovereigns  were  in  no  mood  to  permit  Liberal  conces- 
sions, and  that  they  woidd  interfere  in  Piedmont  as  cer- 
tainly as  they  were  interfering  in  Naples.  The  JMinister 
of  Police  aggravated  the  alarm  by  repeating  an  unfounded 
rumor  that  tliirty  thousand  mutinous  troops  were  march- 
ing on  the  capital,  and  that  the  militia  could  not  be  relied 
upon.i  Distracted  and  weary,  Victor  Emanuel  came  at 
last  to  a  decision  —  he  would  abdicate.  Abdication  is 
the  back-door  by  which  rulers  who  fail  to  defend  them- 
selves in  front  hope  to  escape  the  humiliation  of  formal 
surrender. 

1  Pos^:,  i,  340. 


THE   REVOLUTION   IN   PIEDMONT.  271 

On  the  evening  of  March  12  Victor  Emanuel  an- 
nounced his  purpose  to  his  ministers  and  nobles  in  atten- 
dance. Not  without  tears  they  accepted  the  resolve  as 
inevitable.  The  successor  to  the  throne  was  the  King's 
brother,  Charles  Felix,  but  as  he  was  at  that  moment  at 
Modena,  it  was  necessary  to  choose  a  regent.  Charles 
Albert  was  designated,  but  he  refused,  —  how  coidd  he, 
already  misunderstood  and  entangled,  assume  such  a  re- 
sponsibility ?  The  Queen,  who  had  always  favored  the 
pretensions  of  her  daughter,  the  Duchess  of  Modena, 
tried  to  turn  the  King  against  this  suspected  Prince  of 
Carignano;  but  the  King  saw  no  other  lit  person.  At 
the  council  Charles  Albert  spoke  earnestly  against  abdi- 
cation, saying  that  it  would  be  the  ruin  of  the  country, 
and  that  he  would  never  consent  to  serve  as  regent.  But, 
he  wrote  afterwards,  "the  ministers  pressed  me.  I  told 
tliem  that  they  knew  that  I  had  been  for  two  years  past 
:it  odds  with  the  Duke  of  Genevese  (Charles  Felix)  and 
that,  if  I  accepted  the  regency,  sinister  results  must  fol- 
low. .  .  .  But  all  the  ministers  then  represented  to  me 
that  this  was  t\m  last  order  the  King  gave  me,  and  that 
I  owed  it  to  my  country  to  accept,  to  preserve  it  from 
greater  ills.  Then  I  deemed  it  my  duty  to  obey."^  The 
instrument  of  abdication  was  accordingly  drawn  u])  and 
signed,  but  in  such  haste  that  all  mention  of  Charles 
Felix  was  omitted.  It  gave  to  Charles  Albert  full  autlior- 
ity  as  regent,  until  the  new  king  should  take  control  of 
the  government.  Victor  Kmanuel  sti})ulated,  with  that 
instinct  for  their  material  comfort  which  even  falling  rul- 
ers do  not  lose,  that  he  should  be  ])aid  an  annual  ])ension 
of  one  million  ///r,  and  should  retain  all  the  ])rivileges  of 
a  king.  Befori'  dawn  on  the  nioi-ning  of  March  l'-\  lie 
(juitted  the  Palace  with  his  (^ueen  and  daughters,  on  the 
way  to  Nice,  lie  was  touched  Ity  tlie  tears  and  griel'  of 
his  officers  and  courtiers,  but   tlic  (^ueen,  haughty  and  in- 

'   Hcauretr^rd,  1--. 


272  THE   DAWN   OF   ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

dignant,  replied  to  the  farewell  homage  of  the  Minister  of 
Police,  "  We  have  paid  very  dear,  sir,  for  a  police  which 
you  managed  very  ill."  And  then  the  royal  coach  rum- 
bled out  of  the  courtyard  and  out  through  the  city  streets 
into  the  country,  just  as  the  first  dimness  of  a  new  day 
glimmered  along  the  heights  of  Superga. 

That  abdication  was  the  one  element  the  revolutionists 
had  not  foreseen.  In  their  calculations,  Victor  Emanuel 
was  to  be  made,  willy-nilly,  an  accomplice;  they  were  to 
save  him  from  his  obscurantist  advisers,  and  he,  having 
allowed  free-play  to  his  patriotic  instinct,  would  some  day 
forgive  and  thank  those  who  had  made  him  king  of  six 
million  Italians.  And  now  this  was  impossible.  The 
Regent  was  a  turn-coat,  whom  every  patriot  suspected ; 
the  new  King  was  harsh,  unpopular,  stubborn,  mediaeval 
in  his  hostility  to  reform,  a  supposed  Jesuit  in  his  reli- 
gion. Well  might  Santarosa  exclaim,  "O  night  of  March 
13,  1821 !  Night  fatal  to  my  country,  that  didst  plunge 
us  all  in  squalor  and  hast  shivered  so  many  swords  raised 
in  defense  of  liberty  and  of  the  fatherland,  and  hast  dissi- 
pated so  many  dear  hopes  like  a  dream.  The  fatherland 
did  not  fall  with  the  King,  but  it  was  for  us  in  the  King, 
nay,  incarnate  in  Victor  Emanuel.  Glory,  successes, 
triumphs,  all  was  for  us  summed  up  in  that  name,  in  that 
person."^ 

To  Charles  Albert,  the  Regent,  the  embarrassment  was 
equally  great.  He  saw  that  he  was  an  involuntary  sacri- 
fice both  to  the  monarchy  and  the  revolution.  Victor 
Emanuel  had  fled,  rather  than  yield  to  the  forcible  de- 
mands of  his  people,  and  break  his  pledges,  of  which  the 
people  were  ignorant,  to  Austria.  Charles  Felix  would 
surely  be  quite  as  unyielding,  and  he,  moreover,  was  at 
present  in  Modena,  where  every  wind  blew  from  Austiia. 
What  was  the  Regent  to  do?  He  would  have  preferred 
to  remain  inactive,  merely  checking  disorder,  until  he 
1  Santarosa,  10. 


THE   REVOLUTION    IN    PIEDMONT.  273 

could  receive  instructions  from  the  new  King.  But  the 
avalanche  of  revolution  neither  pauses,  nor  spares  any 
unfortunates  in  its  track,  and  Charles  Albert  was  now 
swept  along  by  the  force  he  had  been  unable  to  stay  a 
week  before. 

In  the  afternoon  of  March  13  a  crowd  thronged  the 
little  square  in  front  of  the  Carignano  palace  and  shouted 
for  the  Spanish  Constitution.  The  sentinels  at  the  gates 
were  pushed  into  the  courtyard,  and  several  persons  were 
roughly  handled;  but  spokesmen  of  the  people  forced 
their  way  into  the  liegent's  presence.  They  entreated 
him  to  publish  the  Constitution  and  thus  to  prevent 
bloodshed.  lie  declared  that  he  would  give  his  life  to 
maintain  the  authority  of  the  King  whom  he  represented. 
They  spoke  of  liberty,  of  patriotism,  of  the  great  anguish 
of  their  fellow-Italians  that  a  word  from  him  could  relieve. 
"I,  too,  am  Italian,"'  rejoined  the  distracted  Prince. 
The  municipal  authorities  and  other  dignitaries  seconded 
the  ap})eal,  by  depicting  the  alternative  of  refusal,  —  a 
massacre  and  the  horrors  of  civil  war.  The  Prince  could 
withstand  no  longer;  the  troops,  he  was  told,  had  de- 
serted; the  insurgents  controlling  the  citadel  were  ready 
to  bombard  the  city.  lie  therefore  signed  a  proclamation 
annomicing  that  the  Spanish  Constitution  would  forthwith 
be  promulgated.  But  in  their  flurry  neitlier  he,  nor  his 
councilors,  nor  the  populace,  had  observed  that  the  Span- 
ish Constitution  contained  two  obnoxious  articles:  first, 
it  did  not  recogni/i;  the  Salic  law,  so  that  the  succession 
to  tlie  throne  of  Piedmont  miglit  have  falli'u,  at  the  death 
of  Charles  Felix,  to  tlie  wife  of  the  Duke  of  Modena ; 
and,  second,  l»v  estaltlishing  the  Catholic  as  the  State 
religion,  it  excludt'd  other  forms  of  worship.  A\  hen 
these  I'adical  defects  were  pointed  out,  there  were  cries  of 
"Kxpunge  them  I"  and  tliey  wei-e  expunged. 

Tlie  next  day  (^larch  14)  the  Piince.  his  Tiewly-fornied 
Alinisti'v,  and  a  provisional  .luiita  composed  of  temperate 


274  THE   DAWN   OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

men,  took  oath  to  abide  by  the  amended  Constitution. 
The  people  now  had  their  will,  what  would  they  do  with 
it?  The  Regent  cautioned  them  to  preserve  order;  he 
commanded  the  seditious  troops  to  return  to  their  alle- 
giance and  to  put  away  the  Carbonaro  tricolor  flags  which 
had  everywhere  replaced  the  royal  banner  of  Savoy.  He 
dispatched  his  equerry,  Costa,  to  Modena,  to  bear  a  sub- 
missive letter  to  Charles  Felix,  and  to  bring  back  the  new 
King's  instructions.  Meanwhile  agents  from  the  Lom- 
bard conspirators  came  and  urged  him  that  all  was  ready 
for  a  rising  beyond  the  Ticino  as  soon  as  the  Piedmon- 
tese  army  should  enter  Lombardy.  He  praised  their 
patriotism,  but  at  a  second  interview  later  in  the  day  he 
said  that  for  the  present  he  must  restrict  himself  to  form- 
ing three  camps,  at  Turin,  Novara,  and  Alessandria. 
"Let  us  hope  in  the  future,"  were  his  words  at  parting. ^ 
A  few  days  later  other  messengers  came  from  Milan  to 
warn  that  it  would  be  madness  to  count  on  an  insurrection 
there.  ^ 

Too  soon  Costa  posted  back  from  Modena,  where 
Charles  Felix  had  received  him  angrily  and  had  refused 
to  write  a  word  to  the  perplexed  Regent.  "Tell  him," 
said  the  King,  "that  if  there  still  flows  one  drop  of  our 
royal  blood  in  his  veins,  he  must  set  out  for  Novara  and 
there  await  my  orders."^  To  this  message  he  added  a 
proclamation,  in  which  he  declared  all  the  acts  of  the 
Regent  illegal  and  null,  and  hinted  that  his  august 
Allies  were  ready  to  place  their  forces  at  his  service  to 
sustain  the  legitimacy  of  thrones,  the  fulness  of  the  royal 
power,  and  the  integrity  of  States.^  This  treatment  con- 
firmed Charles  Albert's  presentiments;  but  fearing  to 
publish  the  proclamation,  because  of  the  crazed  condition 
of  the  country,  he  issued  instead  a  brief  manifesto  stating 
that  "the  King  had  replied  in  such  a  way  as  to  make 

1  Poggi,  i,  846.  ^  Cantu  :    Cronistoria,  ii.  186. 

^  Beauregard,  132.  *  Text  in  Santarosa,  •2G3-.5. 


THE   REVOLUTION.  IN    PIEDMONT.  275 

US  believe  that  his  Majesty  is  not  fully  informed  of  the 
situation  of  affairs  in  his  royal  dominions.  We  faithful 
subjects,  I  the  first,  are  in  duty  bound  to  enlighten  his 
Majesty  as  to  the  actual  position  and  desires  of  his 
people."^  This  announcement  failed  to  satisfy  the 
public;  the  King's  peremptory  words  eelioed  in  Charles 
Albert's  mind,  and  like  the  whisperings  of  an  Evil 
Genius  drove  him  to  a  decision :  he,  too,  would  abdicate. 
Lacking  that  audacity  which  quells  insurrection  by  a 
"whiff  of  grape-shot,"  dreading  a  reign  of  terror  which 
he  was  incompetent  to  grapple  with,  distrusted  by  Royal- 
ists and  Liberals,  censured  by  the  King  in  whose  name 
he  acted,  wounded  in  spirit  to  see  himself  the  victim  of 
a  fatal  misunderstanding,  what  else  could  he  do  but  obey 
Charles  Felix  and  retire?  His  enemies  hinted  afterwards 
that  threats  of  assassination  influenced  his  resolution,  but 
we  may  well  discredit  this  of  a  prince  whom  ])hysical  fear 
never  swayed.  His  duty  now  bade  him  depart,  and  the 
entreaties  of  his  advisers  could  not  restrain  him.  Never- 
theless, in  order  to  escape  possible  detention,  and  to  pre- 
vent a  tumult,  he  concealed  the  hour  of  liis  departure. 
Late  in  the  evening  of  March  22  he  quitted  the  city, 
attended  by  the  royal  l)ody-guard,  the  light  artillery,  and 
other  troops.  When  he  reached  Novara,  General  Delia 
Torre  —  commander  of  the  Royalist  forces  —  received 
him  coldly.  A  few  days  later  a  curt  letter  came  fiom 
Charles  Felix  bidding  liim  to  proceed  at  once  to  Tuscany : 
"by  your  action,"  tlu;  King  concluded,  "I  sliall  know 
wliether  you  are  still,  or  have  ceased  to  be,  a  prince  of  tlie 
Houses  of  Savoy."  Charles  Albert  submitted,  tliough 
submission  meant  exile  and  ex])iatiou.  His  melancholy 
journey  took  liim  tln-ough  Milan,  where  he  cam(>  not  as 
a  liberator  but  as  a  victim  whom  the  Austrian  general, 
Bubna,  mockiuLi^^lv  addressetj  as  the  "King  of  Italv:"' 
and  through  Modena,  wheic  he  hoped  to  vindicate  liiniselt' 

'   Ti'Xl  ill  S.iiilaiiisa,  "Jtl"). 


276  THE   DAWN   OF   ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

before  the  King,  but  Charles  Felix  refused  to  see  him. 
On  April  3  he  entered  Florence  and  had  worse  than  a 
stranger's  welcome. 

Meanwhile  the  revolutionists  outside  of  Turin  had  been 
fruitlessly  active.  At  Vercelli  and  Alessandria  were  their 
strongholds,  but  in  many  other  towns  the  seditious  troops 
had  raised  the  tricolor  flag  and  shouted  for  the  Constitu- 
tion. They  captured  Genoa  almost  without  bloodshed. 
They  still  talked  confidently  of  the  ease  with  which  they 
would  free  Lombardy  from  the  Austrians  as  soon  as  the 
word  came  to  cross  the  Ticino.  But  it  was  obvious  that 
the  strength  of  the  insurrection  was  not  increasing:  the 
middle  classes  held  aloof  from  it;  the  peasantry  had  no 
enthusiasm  for  a  cause  they  did  not  understand.  To  the 
end  it  remained  a  movement  of  a  part  of  the  army  and 
of  the  professional  conspirators.  Every  day  that  passed 
without  a  decisive  blow  chilled  the  lukewarm  interest  of 
the  waverers  and  emboldened  the  Reactionists.  The 
abdication  of  Victor  Emanuel  had  shattered  the  pivot  on 
which  success  turned ;  the  retreat  of  Charles  Albert  took 
away  the  last  semblance  of  legitimacy  from  the  provi- 
sional government ;  the  wrath  and  threats  of  Charles  Felix 
left  no  doubt  as  to  the  punishment  awaiting  the  rebels. 
But  like  men  who,  having  burned  their  ship,  are  caught 
between  the  sea  and  an  overwhelming  foe,  the  leaders  of 
the  revolution  resolved  to  die  with  honor,  rather  than 
ignobly  to  drown  themselves  in  the  impassable  waters. 

This  resolve,  the  alternative  of  despair,  was  fixed  chiefly 
through  the  urgency  of  Santarosa,  the  ablest  of  the  in- 
surgents, and  as  disinterested  as  any.  From  Alessan- 
dria, where  he  had  been  tirelessly  organizing  the  troops 
for  battle,  he  returned  to  Turin  just  before  Charles  Al- 
bert's withdrawal,  was  appointed  Minister  of  War,  and 
became  thenceforth  the  centre  of  energy.  The  Junta  was 
timid,  but  he  did  not  flinch.  He  assumed  that  they  acted 
legitimately  because  they  had  been  appointed  by  Charles 


THE    REVOLUTION    IN    PIEDMONT.  277 

Albert,  the  lawful  representative  of  Victor  Emanuel, 
and  that  they  were  not  bound  to  obey  Charles  Felix  so 
long  as  he  was  detained  in  an  enemy's  country.  What- 
ever commands  issued  from  Modena  could  not  be  the 
product  of  the  new  King's  free-will;  it  was  his  duty  to 
return  to  Piedmont,  where  he  might  learn  what  his  people 
needed ;  if  he  were  prevented  in  coming,  it  would  be  their 
duty  to  try  to  rescue  him.  This  well-meant  casuistry  can 
hardly  have  comforted  even  its  author;  it  does  not  seem 
to  have  deceived  any  one  else.  While  Santarosa  bravely 
provided  munitions  for  the  insurgent  troops,  and  wrote 
orders-of-the-day  full  of  patriotism  and  encouragement, 
the  Junta  strove  to  defend  the  country  from  anarchy  and 
discussed  reform  laws.  But  now  the  news  came  that  the 
Neapolitans  had  been  routed,  that  the  Austrians  were 
marching  unresisted  to  Xai)les,  and  that  all  hope  of  a  pop- 
ular rising  in  Central  and  Northern  Italy  had  vanished. 
To  keep  this  a  secret  for  more  than  a  day  or  two  was 
impossible ;  to  hope  further  was  madness.  Gladly,  tliere- 
fore,  all  the  members  of  the  Junta  except  Santarosa  lis- 
tened to  proposals  of  mediation  from  the  ministers  of 
France  and  Kussia.  Charles  Felix  was  to  be  besought  to 
grant  a  full  amnesty  to  all  the  Constitutionalists,  to  sjiare 
the  country  the  shame  of  a  foreign  invasion,  and  to  ])li'(lge 
himself  to  (concede  a  statute  adapted  to  the  needs  and 
wislies  of  his  people.  The  insurgents,  as  a  guarantee  of 
good  faith,  were  to  deliver  u})  the  eitadi'ls  of  Turin  and 
Alessandria  to  the  Koyalist  (ieneral  Delia  Torre.  But 
wlien  these  terms  were  laid  before  Delia  Torre  he  refused 
tliem,  demanding  unconditional  surrender.'  Xotlunt,^  vo- 
mained  for  the  insurgents  but  a  trial  of  strength.  Dtdla 
Torre,  whose  forces  had  been  increased  by  gradual  acces- 
sions, prepared  to  marrli  on  Turin.  Santarosa  gave 
orders  to  ])rev<'nt  him  by  advanciug  on  Xovara.  There 
was   a   disingenuous   truce,    whieli   allowed    tinu'   for    the 

'    I'>i;inclii.  ii.  Oli-l. 


278  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

Austrian  vanguard  to  join  the  Royalists,  and  then  on 
April  8,  after  a  brief  but  not  wholly  inglorious  conflict 
near  Novara,  the  Constitutionalists  were  routed.  Like 
the  Neapolitans,  they  learned  that  patriotism,  however 
brave,  however  worthy  it  may  be,  cannot  of  itself  win 
battles;  the  God  of  War  bestows  victory  not  on  the  just 
but  on  the  best  equipped',  and  if  patriots  would  conquer, 
they  must  have  strength  as  well  as  justice  on  their  side. 
The  routed  troops  dispersed :  some  to  Genoa,  whence  they 
embarked  for  foreign  lands,  and  some  to  Switzerland;  a 
few  fled  westward  towards  France,  and  brought  the  news 
of  disaster  to  Turin.  Santarosa  would  still  have  made  a 
last  effort,  but  he,  too,  was  soon  convinced  that  the  delu- 
sion was  played  out ;  and  heavy  of  heart  he  bade  farewell 
to  his  country  forever. 

As  the  clouds  clear  away,  as  the  parching  sun  of  Ab- 
solutism shines  again  over  Naples  and  Piedmont,  we 
catch  another  glimpse  of  Metternich,  serene  and  Jove- 
like, prej^aring  to  depart  from  Laybach.  "While  mili- 
tary operations  are  going  on,"  he  writes  (April  13),  "a 
minister  takes  his  holidays.  The  Neapolitan  war  gave 
me  eight  days;  the  Piedmontese  only  four.  Everybody 
must  acknowledge  that  no  time  has  been  lost."  ^  When 
the  gods  are  thus  satisfied  with  their  work,  why  should 
mortals  find  fault  ?  Can  it  be  that  men  know  better  than 
the  Olympians  what  is  right  and  necessary  ? 

1  Metternicli,  iii,  494. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

RETRIBUTION. 

Thus  failed  the  first  organized  attempt  of  the  Italians 
to  win  their  freedom.  The  failure,  although  complete, 
was  not  ignoble;  the  courage  of  many  of  the  leaders, 
the  very  audacity  of  the  undertaking,  suffice  to  lift  the 
revolutions  in  Naples  and  Piedmont  above  the  reach  of 
contem})t.  Viewed  in  themselves,  those  revolutions  were 
calamities  with  scarcely  a  mitigating  phase,  for  they 
proved  how  easily  Patriotism  could  be  defeated,  and  they 
made  Tyranny  more  insolent  than  before;  but  viewed 
historically,  as  episodes  in  a  deep  and  i)r()longed  national 
movement,  ratlier  than  as  sudden  and  unsuccessful  spurts, 
they  appear  salutary.  For  what  were  those  disasters  but 
lessons  set  ])y  Adversity,  the  great  teacher  who  dispels 
illusions,  who  will  tolerate  no  compromises,  who  rewards 
only  ])atience  and  courage  and  strength?  Henceforth 
the  issue  could  not  be  misunderstood.  The  conflict  was 
not  simply  l)etwe<!n  tlie  Nea})()litans  and  their  B()url)on 
king,  or  between  the  Piedmontese  and  Charles  Felix,  l)ut 
between  Italian  Libci-alism  and  Kui'opean  Absolutism. 
Santarosa  and  P('])e  cried  out  in  their  disaj^pointment 
that  th(!  just  cause  would  have  won  liad  their  timid  col- 
leagues been  moi-e  dai'iiig,  liad  ])ronus(!S  l)ut  been  kept; 
we,  however,  see  clearly  tliat  tliougli  tlie  struggle  might 
have  l)een  ])rolonged,  tlie  result  would  have  been  un- 
changed. Piedmont  and  Naples,  had  each  of  their  citi- 
zens been  a  hero,  could  not  have  ovei'come  the  Holy 
Alliance,  wliicli  was  their  real  antagonist. 

The  revolutionists   had  not  directly  attacked  the   Holy 


280  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

Alliance ;  they  had  not  thrown  down  the  gauntlet  to  Aus- 
tria; they  had  simply  insisted  that  they  had  a  right  to 
constitutional  government ;  and  Austria,  more  keen-wit- 
ted than  they,  had  seen  that  to  suffer  a  constitution  at 
Naples  or  Turin  would  be  to  acknowledge  the  injustice 
of  those  principles  by  which  the  Holy  Alliance  had  de- 
creed that  Europe  should  be  repressed  to  the  end  of  time. 
So  when  the  Carbonari  aimed  at  Ferdinand  they  struck 
Austria,  and  Austria  struck  back  a  deadly  blow.  They 
learned,  what  in  their  days  of  hope  they  had  ignored,  that 
they  had  to  deal  with  Metternich  at  Vienna,  and  not 
alone  with  their  local  sovereign.  And  now,  in  defeat, 
they  could  learn  many  other  matters  which  it  behooved 
them  to  know.  They  could  contrast  the  decisive  harmony 
amongst  the  powers  of  despotism  with  their  own  fatal 
hesitation  and  dissensions.  The  secret  societies  which 
had  promoted  the  insurrection  never  had  the  great  major- 
ity of  the  people  with  them.  The  peasantry  and  artisans, 
who  composed  at  least  half  of  the  population,  were  scarcely 
interested  in  the  movement;  like  eel-grass,  they  were 
accustomed  to  be  drawn  to  and  fro  by  the  fluctuating  tides 
of  government,  but  it  made  little  difference  to  them 
whether  the  tide  ran  in  or  out;  rooted  to  the  soil,  even 
their  slight  motions  were  not  due  to  their  own  volition. 
The  tradespeople  were  timid  and  conservative,  —  that  is 
the  characteristic  of  the  well-to-do  or  rich.  The  privi- 
leged classes,  the  nobles  and  clericals,  were  for  the  most 
part  ujiholders  of  the  despotic  system  to  which  they  owed 
their  privileges.  That  the  Carbonari,  Federatists,  and 
the  score  of  smaller  kindred  sects,  induced  some  nobles 
—  and  those  among  the  most  intelligent  and  energetic  — 
to  join  them,  and  that  their  membership  was  considerably 
recruited  from  among  ])rofessional  men,  are  the  best  indi- 
cations of  the  essential  worthiness  of  those  societies.  But 
the  lack  of  a  responsible  head,  the  cheap  mysteries  and 
vague  purposes,   the  evident   desire  to  get   strength  by 


RETRIBUTION.  281 

numbers  rather  than  by  character,  the  excesses  committed 
by  the  most  unprincipled  members,  —  all  this  tended  to 
discredit  conspiracy  before  it  came  into  action,  and  has- 
tened its  dissolution  as  soon  as  it  began  to  act.  A  politi- 
cal party,  whose  operations  are  public,  must  have  leaders 
and  principles  known  to  all  its  adherents  and  presumably 
approved  by  them ;  the  very  publicity  encourages  loyalty ; 
but  a  conspiracy,  unless  it  be  limited  to  a  few  men,  must 
lose  in  efficacy  in  proportion  as  it  gains  in  volume.  Even 
in  a  conspiracy  whose  aim  is  patriotic,  the  instinct  is  often 
irresistible  to  aggrandize  the  sect  at  the  expense  of  the 
country,  because  the  welfare  of  the  country  is  believed  to 
depend  upon  the  aggrandizement  of  the  sect.  Secrecy 
which  binds  conspirators  together  so  far  as  they  share 
a  common  danger,  may,  on  the  other  hand,  weaken  their 
sense  of  a  larger  personal  obligation;  and  it  gives  too 
much  scope  to  schemes  of  the  most  audacious  or  the  most 
unscrupulous.  When  the  average  member  discovers  that 
the  forces  of  his  lodge  are  being  employed  in  the  interest 
of  an  ambitious  Grand  Master,  he  becomes  jealous,  or  at 
least  lukewarm;  when  he  finds  that  his  own  moilerate 
views  are  outvoted  by  a  majority  of  extremists,  he  be- 
comes hostile,  for  no  man  would  risk  life  and  fortune  to 
join  in  a  plot  to  wliich  he  was  opposed.  Hence  cli(jues 
within  the  sect,  itself  a  cliqiu^;  hence  a  babel  of  tongues 
and  conflict  of  schemes,  in  whicli  the  loudest  and  the 
most  turbulent  prevail.  History  is  a  prolonged  refuta- 
tion of  the  proverb  that  "in  a  nudtitude  of  advisers  there 
is  safety."  The  Italian  conspirators  learned  in  disaster 
that  many  lieads  are  not  always  better  than  one.  It  was 
Hydra,  and  not  Athene, — the  monster  of  discord,  and 
not  the  goddess  of  wisdom,  —  whom  tlit>  (ireeks  pictured 
as  many-headed. 

Besid(!S  these  defects  inherent  in  all  extensive  conspir- 
acies, —  especially  where  the  ol)ject  eons})ii('d  for  is  not  a 
person  ])ut  an  abstraction,     -the  Italian  conspirators  had 


282  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

to  contend  against  special  difficulties.  The  hereditary 
feuds  between  province  and  province,  as  old  as  the  days 
when  Guelf  and  GhibeUine  were  living  watchwords,  were 
not  forgotten.  The  recent  Napoleonic  upheaval,  causing 
allegiance  and  opinions  to  be  quickly  and  often  changed, 
threw  strange  elements  together,  and  split  up  elements 
which  had  till  lately  been  united.  Above  all,  the  dis- 
tinctly military  aspect  of  the  revolution,  both  in  Naples 
and  Piedmont,  gave  it  too  much  the  appearance  of  a  sedi- 
tion, rather  tlian  that  of  a  popular  uprising. 

What,  then,  was  gained  by  the  patriots  in  their  unsuc- 
cessful endeavor?  Nothing  of  immediate  benefit,  but 
mucli  which,  unrecognized  at  first,  might  afterwards  ad- 
vance their  cause.  They  had  gained  experience,  bitter 
indeed,  but  necessary.  They  had  shown  that  Italians 
could  and  would  fight  for  their  independence.  They  had 
jiroved  at  Naples  that  they  could  govern  honestly,  if  not 
strongly,  and  at  Turin  that  they  were  not  the  wild  anar- 
chists which  all  revolutionists  were  supposed  to  be.  They 
had,  in  a  word,  announced  to  Europe  that  Italians  dared 
to  protest  against  the  shameful  condition  of  their  country. 
But  their  protest  had  not  been  listened  to;  their  efforts 
had  failed,  and  now  their  punishment  was  terrible. 
Through  their  failure  Austria  had  become  more  powerful 
than  ever  in  all  parts  of  the  Peninsula ;  the  Allied  Powers 
had  conceded  to  her  the  right  to  interfere  in  every  pro- 
vince ;  her  army  had  again  occupied  Naples ;  she  had  at 
last  won  her  way  into  Piedmont,  so  long  her  stubborn 
opponent. 

But  Austria  and  the  Reactionists  were  not  content  with 
simple  victory;  treating  the  revolution  as  a  crime,  they 
at  once  proceeded  to  take  vengeance.  Logically  they 
were  justified;  but  this  would  be  a  poor  world  indeed  had 
it  no  higher  laws  than  those  of  partisan  logic  to  direct 
it  to  truth  and  justice.  Your  syllogism  is  like  a  loaded 
gun,  whicli  will  go  off,  whoever  pulls  the  trigger;  but  it 


RETRIBUTION.  283 

depends  upon  the  aimer  whether  the  shot  hits  the  right 
mark.  Most  of  the  abominations  of  liistory  —  slavery, 
polygamy,  sacerdotal  celibacy,  the  Inquisition,  tyranny, 
theological  superstitions,  standing  armies,  economical 
fallacies  like  protection  —  have  had  plenty  of  logic,  of  a 
certain  kind,  to  defend  them.  In  Italy  in  1821,  how- 
ever, there  was  need  of  no  more  logic  than  that  which 
prompts  a  cat  to  tormeilt  a  mouse ;  instinct  and  superior 
strength  sufficed  to  guide  the  avengers. 

Ferdinand,  the  perjured  Neapolitan  king,  tarried  be- 
hind in  Florence,  whilst  the  Austrians  went  down  into 
his  kingdom  and  squelched  the  patriotic  army.  lie  was 
too  prudent  a  monarch  to  risk  himself  among  his  subjects 
until  they  should  be  brought  into  a  loyal  frame  of  mind ; 
and  it  is  a  king's  privilege  to  fight  by  proxies  and  to  re- 
ward them  with  titles  and  honors.  But  as  soon  as  Ferdi- 
nand was  assured  that  the  Austrian  regiments  were  mas- 
ters of  Naples,  he  sent  for  that  Prince  of  Canosa  whom 
he  had  been  forced  unwillingly  to  dismiss  on  account  of 
liis  outrageous  cruelty  five  years  before,  and  deputed  to 
him  the  task  of  restoring  genuine  Bourbon  tyranny  in 
tlie  Kingdom  of  the  Two  Sicilies.  A  better  agent  of  vin- 
dictive wrath  than  Canosa  could  not  have  been  foiuid; 
he  was  troubled  by  no  humane  compunctions,  nor  by 
doubts  as  to  tlie  justice  of  his  fierce  measures;  to  him,  as 
to  Tonpiemada,  persecution  was  a  compound  of  duty  and 
pleasure. 

Arriving  at  Naples,  lie  learned  that  a  Frovisional 
Council,  a})pointed  by  the  King,  had  already  begun  the 
work  of  chastisement.  Every  act  of  tlie  revolutiouarv 
Parliament  was  annulled:  that  "Sacred  S([ua(lron."' wliieli 
had  led  ihCi  revolt  on  the  '.2(1  of  July  and  liad  been  re- 
ceive<l  with  honor  by  the  \  iceroy,  was  attainted  of  trea- 
son;  the  right  of  assembling,  no  matter  for  what  puipost', 
being  denied,  the  universities,  schools,  and  hceuius  had 
to  close;   proscrij)tion  lists  were   hurriedly  drawn  uj),  and 


284  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

they  contained  not  only  the  names  of  those  who  had  been 
prominent  in  the  recent  rising,  but  also  of  all  who  had 
incurred  suspicion  for  any  political  acts  as  far  back  as 
1793,  — a  direct  violation  of  the  Treaty  of  Casalanza,  to 
which  the  king  had  sworn  in  1815.  In  order  to  expedite 
punishment,  special  Juntas  of  Scrutiny  were  created  to 
try  accused  civilians,  and  courts -martial  to  try  officers  and 
soldiers;  but  what  hope  of  justice  was  there  from  these 
tribunals,  composed,  in  part,  of  men  who  but  a  few  months 
before  had  been  engaged  in  the  same  enterj^rise  as  the 
victims  over  whom  they  sat  in  judgment?  To  purchase 
pardon  by  turning  State's  evidence  has  been  from  time 
immemorial  the  last  resort  of  cowards;  but  it  was  a  base- 
ness reserved  for  the  Bourbon  government  to  raise  rene- 
gades to  the  judicial  bench,  where  they  passed  sentences 
upon  their  late  confederates.  There  being  no  habeas 
corpus  law,  arrest  might  be  followed  by  long  imprison- 
ment without  trial;  there  being  no  court  of  appeal,  per- 
petual imprisonment  or  summary  execution  depended  upon 
the  caprice  or  prejudice  or  ignorance  of  a  single  judge. 
As  the  accused  was  not  allowed  to  confront  his  accusers, 
many  vile  wretches  made  a  business  of  informing,  either 
to  earn  a  few  crowns  or  to  gratify  a  personal  spite. 
Others  became  Iscariots  through  fear.  But  all  these 
were  mere  skirmishers  in  advance  of  the  army  of  police, 
carabineers,  and  paid  spies  that  Canosa  employed  in  his 
campaign  of  extermination.  Houses  were  searched  with- 
out warrant;  seals  were  broken  open;  some  of  the  reve- 
lations of  the  confessional  were  not  sacred.  The  church- 
bells  tolled  incessantly  for  victims  led  to  execution.  To 
strike  deeper  terror,  Canosa  revived  the  barbarous  tor- 
ture of  scourging  in  public.  "At  midday  in  the  po])u- 
lous  Toledo  Street  a  large  detachment  of  Austrian  soldiers 
was  seen,  drawn  up  in  military  array ;  next  to  them  stood 
the  assistant  of  the  executioner,  who,  at  intervals,  blew 
a  triimpet,  and  a  little  behind  him  more  Austrians,  and 


RETRIBUTION.  285 

several  officers  of  police,  who  surrounded  a  man  naked 
from  the  waist  upwards,  his  feet  bare,  his  wrists  tightly 
bound,  and  with  all  the  badges  of  the  Carbonari  hung 
round  his  neck;  he  wore  a  tricolor  cap,  on  which  was 
inscribed  in  large  letters,  '  Carbonaro. '  This  unhappy 
man  was  mounted  on  an  ass,  and  followed  by  the  execu- 
tioner, who,  at  every  blast  of  the  trumpet,  scourged  his 
shoulders  with  a  whip  made  of  ropes  and  nails,  until  his 
flesh  was  stained  with  blood  and  his  agony  was  shown  by 
his  pallor,  while  his  head  sank  upon  his  breast.  The 
mob  followed  this  procession  in  silent  horror.  Respect- 
able citizens  fled,  or  prudently  concealed  their  pity  and 
disgust.  If  any  asked  the  meaning  of  this  punishment, 
they  were  told  the  person  flogged  was  a  Carbonaro,  a 
gentleman  from  the  provinces  (and  a  gentleman  he 
appeared  to  be  both  in  face  and  person),  who  after  being 
scourged,  was  to  suffer  the  penalty  of  the  galleys  for 
fifteen  years ;  and  this  not  by  the  sentence  of  a  magis- 
trate, but  by  the  order  of  the  Prince  of  Canosa,  Minister 
of  Police,  who  had  just  arrived  in  the  city."^ 

At  the  capital,  where  a  large  Austrian  ganison  made 
resistance  impossible,  the  avengers  worked  methodically. 
To  seize  and  ])unish  the  obscurer  victims,  who  had  neither 
rank  nor  wealth  to  })lead  for  tliem,  was  l)ut  the  ];)r()l()gue 
to  the  tragedy;  Canosa  and  his  minions  soon  brought 
those  on  tlie  scene  who  had  l)()th  wealth  and  rank,  wliicli 
only  hastened  their  destruction.  AVhen  he  wrote  to  Fer- 
dinand to  ask  if  he  might  ])unish  without  diserimintition, 
Ferdinand  replied,  "l^iuiish."  No  one,  however  innocent 
he  knew  himself  to  be,  could  esca]>e  the  dread  of  being 
accused  and  persecuted.  Many  of  the  niost  })r(»minent 
of  the  revolutionists  had  fled   befori*  the  collajjse  of   the 

'  CoUt^tta.  ii.  4  10- 1 .  I  li.'ivc  sulislitiitrd  "  Aiistrians  "  for  "  (uTiiiaiis." 
Duriiijj  till'  first  half  of  tin'  (■••iitury  tli.'  Italians  I'alli'il  tlnir  N'ortlicrii  prr- 
st'ciitors  iiidiscriiiiiiiati'ly  ""  (rrniiaiis  ""  or  "  Aiistrians  ;  "  tlic  latter  is  of 
coiirst!  the  correct  term. 


286  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

constitutional  government;  many  who  had  remained, 
trusting  to  their  guiltlessness,  now  hesitated  whether  to 
flee  or  to  remain.  If  they  fled  they  would  be  declared 
guilty,  their  families  would  be  maltreated,  and  their  es- 
tates confiscated ;  if  they  stayed,  they  might  at  any  moment 
be  imprisoned  on  a  false  charge.  Many  hid  themselves. 
In  the  provinces,  anarchy  and  punishment  went  side  by 
side.  Brigandage,  recruited  from  the  multitudes,  under 
the  ban  of  the  police,  flourished  again.  Kecldess  Car- 
bonari took  swift  vengeance  on  hated  judges,  or  broke 
into  the  prisons  and  liberated  their  companions.  Woe 
to  the  peaceful  rustic,  exposed  alike  to  the  extortions  of 
the  bandits  and  the  suspicion  of  the  police ! 

How  many  victims  actually  suffered  during  this  reign 
of  terror  we  cannot  tell.  Canosa's  list  of  the  proscribed 
had,  it  is  said,  more  than  four  thousand  names.  The 
prisons  were  choked  with  persons  begging  for  trial ;  the 
galleys  of  Pantelleria,  Procida,  and  the  Ponza  Islands 
swarmed  with  victims  condemned  for  life ;  the  scaffolds, 
erected  in  the  public  squares  of  the  chief  towns,  were 
daily  occupied.  And  as  if  the  political  motives  for  per- 
secution might  fail,  a  religious  motive  was  soon  added. 
The  Pope  declared  the  Catechism  in  common  use  to  be 
unorthodox.  It  had  been  compiled  from  the  writings  of 
Bossuet,  and  sanctioned  in  181G;  but  its  allusions  to 
patriotism  as  a  duty  which  citizens  owe  to  their  country 
were  now  pronounced  dangerous.  The  book  was  pub- 
licly burnt,  and  whoever  was  caught  with  a  copy  of  it  in 
his  possession  was  liable  to  be  severely  punished.  Spies 
went  about  to  ferret  out  this  and  other  interdicted  works ; 
many  persons  voluntarily  brought  their  prohi1)ited  litera- 
ture to  the  Piazza  Medina,  to  be  burnt  by  the  hangman; 
others  destroyed  their  libraries  in  private. 

At  length,  when  his  deputies  had  terrorized  the  country 
into  apparent  submission,  and  when  the  Austrian  regi- 
ments made  it  safe  f(n-  him  to  travel,  Ferdinand  quitted 


RETRIBUTION.  287 

Florence  and  returned  to  Naples.  His  entry  was  mag- 
nificent, being  accompanied  "by  rejoicings  prepared  by 
flattery  and  fear."  Perhaps  to  his  perfidious  soul  these 
insincere  expressions  were  as  grateful  as  is  honest  appro- 
bation to  the  hearts  of  the  sincere;  but  henceforth  he 
took  greater  precautions  than  ever  to  surround  his  person 
with  a  strong  guard ;  to  whet  the  vigilance  of  the  police ; 
to  employ  spies  to  watch  every  official,  and  other  spies  to 
watch  those  spies ;  to  forbid  every  act  or  practice  which 
might  be  the  germ  of  rebellion.  He  intrusted  education 
to  the  clergy,  honored  the  Jesuits,  bestowed  pensions  on 
bishops,  and  was  himself  most  assiduous  in  performing 
the  mimunery  of  worship.  To  Frimont,  couunander  of 
the  Austrian  army,  he  gave  the  title  of  Duke  of  Antro- 
doco  and  a  purse  of  two  hundred  thousand  ducats ;  to 
Francis,  his  son  and  late  accomplice  in  perfidy,  lu;  offered 
no  reproaches.  He  was  as  barren  in  mercy  as  in  honor. 
He  spared  not  even  those  who  had  liad  no  part  in  jjromot- 
ing  tlie  revolution  and  wlio  had  come  forward  only  after 
he  had  himself  ratified  the  Constitution.  To  commute 
sentence  of  death  into  confinement  in  tlie  gallc}s  for  lifci 
—  a  sentence  worse  tlian  death  —  was  the  limit  of  his 
mercy. 

In  the  government  Ferdinand  ado]ite(l  ])rinciples  more 
Absolutist  than  at  any  earlien- period  of  his  rcigii.  He 
appointed  a  council,  composed  of  six  councilors  and  six 
ministers,  wlio  were  merely  the  in^trninciits  of  liis  will. 
He  separated  the  administi'ation  of  Sicily  from  that  of 
the  maiidand.  He  decnM'd  that  a  Considta,  having  eigh- 
teen mein])ers  in  Sicilvand  thirty  in  Naples,  should  discuss 
the  ordinances  for  those  two  ])()rti()iis  of  the  kingdom, 
but  witliout  ])owcr  to  amend  or  execute  them;  that  pro- 
vincial councils  shonld  assess  taxes,  and  that  connnnnes 
should  l)e  less  dc])ciidcnt  on  flic  central  government. 
These  were  the  new  orders.  The  King,  by  rcsci'ving  to 
himself  the  rij-ht  to  nominate  or  remove  anv  official,  held 


288  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

his  subjects,  high  or  low,  in  the  hollow  of  his  autocratic 
hand.  The  public  debt,  which  had  not  increased  under 
the  honest  administration  of  the  Constitutionalists,  now 
rose  rapidly.  The  Austrian  garrison  had  to  be  paid ;  the 
King  must  have  money  to  lavish  on  foreign  friends  and 
to  expend  on  his  own  ostentation,  and  on  his  gifts  to  the 
clergy.  In  Sicily  the  revolution  smouldered  and  sjilut- 
tered  for  years,  in  spite  of  remorseless  efforts  to  stamp  it 
out;  on  the  mainland,  robberies  and  brigandage,  and 
outbreaks  now  political  and  now  criminal,  proved  how 
delusive  was  a  security  based  on  oppression  and  lies. 
Amid  these  conditions  Ferdinand  passed  the  later  years 
of  his  infamous  reign:  as  if  repudiated  by  the  God  and 
saints  to  wdiom  he  built  churches,  and  as  if  even  Oreus 
itself  loathed  to  receive  him.  Despised  by  his  parasites 
and  by  the  princes  whom  he  pompously  entertained,  and 
hated  by  his  subjects,  he  strove  to  banish  his  terror  of 
death  by  the  follies  of  his  buffoon,  by  the  antics  of  his 
pet  bears,  and  by  the  droning  of  his  priests.  Such  was 
the  king,  and  such  the  government,  that  the  Allied  Pow- 
ers of  Europe  —  Austria,  Prussia,  Russia,  France,  and 
England  —  imposed  on  Naples  during  the  fifth  lustre  of 
the  nineteenth  century. 

In  Piedmont  the  retaliation  was  as  effectual  as  in  Na- 
ples, but  less  blood  was  shed  there.  Delia  Torre  took 
command  of  the  kingdom  in  the  name  of  Charles  Felix. 
Count  Thaon  de  Revel  displayed  his  loyalty  by  the  rigor 
of  his  administration  in  Turin ;  armed  with  special  author- 
ity from  the  King,  he  rivaled  Canosa  in  his  implacable 
baiting  of  the  rebels.  A  special  commission,  composed  of 
officers  and  magistrates,  devoted  itself  exclusively  to  in- 
vestigating "the  crimes  of  rebellion,  treason,  and  insubor- 
dination." Seventy-three  officers  were  condemned  to 
death,  one  hundred  and  five  to  the  galleys ;  but  as  nearly 
all  of  them  had  escaped,  they  Avere  lianged  in  effigy ;  only 
two.  Lieutenant  Lanari  and  Captain  Garelli,  were  exe- 


RETKIBUTION.  289 

cuted.  The  property  of  the  condemned  was  sequestrated, 
their  families  were  tormented,  and  the  commission,  not 
content  with  sentencing  those  who  had  taken  an  active 
part  in  the  revolution,  cashiered  two  hundred  and  twenty- 
one  officers  who,  while  holding  aloof  from  Santarosa,  had 
refused  to  join  Delia  Torre  at  Novara  and  fight  against 
their  countrymen.  A  second  commission  examined  the 
civil  employees  of  the  government,  and  removed  many  of 
them  fi'om  office,  while  a  third  took  the  students  in  hand, 
rusticating  some  to  distant  villages,  annulling  diplomas 
which  had  been  granted  during  the  month  of  rebellion, 
and  closing  for  a  year  the  universities  of  Turin  and 
Genoa.  One  prelate,  the  Bishop  of  Asti,  who  had  spoken 
disparagingly  of  Absolutism,  was  shut  up  in  a  Capuchin 
convent  until  he  publicly  retracted  his  opinions.  The 
prisons  were  crowded  with  suspects,  and,  as  invariably 
happens  after  the  collapse  of  an  insurrection,  many  base 
spirits  purchased  pardon  for  themselves  by  denouncing 
their  late  colleagues  or  their  private  enemies.  Few,  in- 
deed, were  the  families  in  the  upper  and  middle  classes 
which  had  not  to  tremble  for  the  safety  of  one  of  their 
members  under  arrest,  or  to  mourn  him  wandering  in 
exile. 

Charles  Felix  lingered  meanwliile  in  Modena  until  liis 
kingdom  and  army  sliould  be  "absolutely  purged."'^  As 
the  work  progressed,  he  sent  approving  letters  to  be  pub- 
lished in  the  official  Gazette  at  Turin,  and  he  issued  a 
manifesto  calling  upon  his  subjects  to  submit,  and  warning 
them  that  to  murnmr  would  be  high  treason.  Thcv 
could  not  refrain,  however,  from  rebaptizing  him  Charles 
Ferox,  but  they  took  care  to  utter  the  nickname  under 
their  breath.  The  King  himself  liad  soon  reason  to  learn 
the  truth  of  a  former  i^pigrani  of  his,  "Austria  is  a  bird- 
lime wliich  you  cannot  wash  off  your  fingers  when  you 
have  one*'  touclied   it;"'^  for  iVustria  soon   showed  that 

*  Biaiiclii.  ii,  :')41.  -  IJeaurcj^anl,  IM. 


290  THE   DAWN   OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

her  motive  in  bolstering  falling  monarchs  on  their  shaky 
thrones  was  not  simply  philanthropic  nor  disinterested. 
General  Bubna,  on  taking  possession  of  Alessandria,  sent 
the  keys  of  that  fortress  to  Emperor  Francis,  in  order, 
he  said,  —  and  we  wonder  whether  there  was  no  sarcasm 
in  his  voice,  — in  order  to  give  Charles  Felix  "the  pleas- 
ure of  receiving  them  back  from  the  Emperor's  hand." 
"Although  I  found  this  a  very  poor  joke,"  wrote  Charles 
Felix  to  his  brother,  "I  dissembled."^  How,  indeed, 
could  he  do  otherwise?  The  Austrian  troops,  on  the 
pretext  that  there  was  danger  of  a  counter-revolution,  had 
occupied  Casale,  Alessandria,  and  Tortona;  and  by  a 
convention  signed  by  Bubna  and  the  agents  of  the  King, 
it  was  agreed  that  an  Austrian  army  corps  of  twelve 
thousand  men  should  remain  in  Piedmont  at  least  until 
September,  1822,  their  rations  and  a  monthly  stipend  of 
300,000  francs  to  be  supplied  by  the  Piedmontese  gov- 
ernment. ^  Charles  Felix  had  in  truth  become  but  the 
vassal  of  the  hereditary  enemy  of  his  line,  and  that  not 
by  conquest,  but  by  his  own  invitation. 

So  the  summer  wore  away,  and  the  King,  having 
received  news  that  the  purging  had  proceeded  so  far  as  to 
make  it  desirable  that  he  should  return  to  Piedmont  and 
be  crowned,  prepared  to  leave  Modena.  But  first,  as  a 
mark  of  his  paternal  clemency,  he  issued  an  amnesty 
(October  4),  in  which  he  granted  full  pardon  to  his  guilty 
subjects,  only  excluding  "those  who  had  been  heads, 
authors,  or  promoters  of  the  conspiracies  and  tumults; 
those  in  whose  houses  meetings  had  been  held  for  revolu- 
tionary purposes;  those  who,  with  money,  flattery,  or 
promises,  had  shaken  or  attempted  to  shake  the  loyalty 
of  the  troops ;  those  who,  having  charge  of  public  educa- 
tion, had  led  the  youth  astray;  those  who  by  writings, 
whether  printed  or  not,  had  promoted  the  revolution ;  or 
had  been  leaders,  directors,   or  members  of  the  Ttalian 

1  Bianchi,  ii,  68.  ^  Santarosa,  283-8. 


RETRIBUTION.  291 

Federation ;  or  had  assumed  military  command,  whether 
to  promote  or  maintain  the  sedition ;  or  had  been  guilty 
of  homicide,  or  of  taking  fimds  from  the  State  or  com- 
munal treasuries,  or  of  arbitrary  imposition  on  the 
communes  or  on  ])rivate  individuals."^  Well  might  the 
Piedmontese  ask  if  this  amnesty  was  meant  in  jest,  — 
royal  humor  being  often  unintelligible  to  the  vulgar  mind. 
As  if  to  make  his  meaning  clear,  however,  Charles  Felix 
accompanied  this  edict  by  another  in  which  he  remitted 
or  annulled  the  punishment  of  many  common  murderers 
and  violent  criminals  as  a  sifi:n  of  his  sovereiirn  benevo- 
lence.  And  then,  triumphal  arches  having  been  erected 
and  illuminations  having  been  made  ready,  he  entered 
Turin  and  listened  to  the  perfunctory  congratulations  of 
his  loyal  officials  and  magistrates;  but  the  pojndaee,  it 
was  remarked,  greeted  him  with  unobse(iuious  silence. 

In  spite  of  these  severe  measures,  Charles  Felix  was 
not  by  nature  bloodthirsty.  Ilis  narrow  mind  was  pos- 
sessed by  a  single  idea,  —  that  it  was  the  divine  will  that 
he  should  have  absolute  control  over  his  subjects.  For 
them  to  object  was  heresy ;  for  him  to  yield  would  be  to 
disregard  the  divine  command.  Alone  of  all  his  line, 
he  lacked  the  soldier's  instinct  and  territorial  ambition 
whicli  liad  raised  the  Counts  of  Savoy  to  the  small  but 
sturdy  Kingdom  of  Piedmont.  That  ugly  countenance 
of  his,  with  its  ever-gaping  moutli,  bespoke  neitlier  vigor 
of  will  nor  dignity  of  cliaracter,  but  rather  a  ])idl-dog 
tenacity;  and,  like  a  bull-dog,  he  could  be  good-natured 
when  he  was  not  crossed.  He  adopted,  tlierefore,  tlie 
i)f)licy  wliicli  seemed  most  likely  to  secure  hiui  tlie  inidis- 
turbcd  play  for  his  autocratic  iiu])ulscs.  Though  not  par- 
ticularly devout,  he  gave  full  range  to  the  Jesuits  in  l)()th 
education  and  ])ublic  worsliip,  because  he  recogui/ed  their 
ability  in  paralyzing  Liberal  sentiments  aiul  in  hunting 
down   the  perverse.      "I   am   not    King  to  be  bored,"  was 

'   Turotti.  i,  Sici. 


292  THE   DAWN    OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

a  favorite  saying  of  his ;  to  which  we  may  add  this  other : 
"  Austria  holds  half  a  million  bayonets  in  her  pay  quite 
at  my  service,  and  I  need  no  other  troops."  He  spent 
his  days  in  dabbling  in  diplomacy,  or  in  gossip;  his 
nights  at  the  theatre ;  but  he  was  not  without  a  certain 
condescending  kindliness  towards  those  of  his  subjects 
who  prostrated  themselves  to  his  authority.  Under  such 
a  guardian,  the  cause  of  Absolutism  seemed  safe  in  Pied- 
mont.^ 

In  Central  Italy,  which  had  escaped  an  open  revolu- 
tion, sufficient  evidence  was  collected  to  bring  several 
batches  of  suspects  to  trial.  The  Tuscan  Grand  Duke, 
to  whom  the  mildness  of  his  reign  had  been  a  better  pro- 
tection than  espionage  and  severity  had  been  to  his  neigh- 
bors, was  inclined  to  punish  the  offenders  so  lightly  that 
Austria  remonstrated.  "Send  me  Metternich, "  he  re- 
plied; and  in  the  absence  of  the  Chancellor  he  pursued 
his  lenient  policy. 

Cardinal  Consalvi  and  the  Pope  likewise  chafed  at  Aus- 
tria's charge  that  they  encouraged  conspiracies  by  not 
taking  vengeance  on  the  conspirators.  That  they  should 
be  so  reproached  was  indeed  strange!  The  Legate  at 
Forli,  Cardinal  Sanseverino,  redeemed  his  own  reputation 
for  energy  by  making  wholesale  arrests,  and  by  banish- 
ing many  innocent  persons  without  a  hearing.  Austria, 
under  the  pretense  that  the  Papal  States  were  in  danger, 
left  a  garrison  of  two  thousand  troops  at  Ancona,  despite 
the  protests  of  Cardinal  Consalvi.^  Tlie  Pope,  however, 
removed  all  doubts  as  to  his  agreement  with  the  monarchs 
of  the  Holy  Alliance  by  launching  (September  13,  1821) 

^  Beauregard,  156  ;  Gallenga,  iii,  327-9.  Gallenga  adds  some  towehes 
to  the  King's  portrait :  "  Evening  after  evening-  he  sat  in  his  box,  at  Genoa 
or  Nice,  his  favorite  sojourns,  leering  at  the  dancing-girls,  munching  gris- 
sini  —  the  famous  Piedmontese  crisp-baked  bread  —  and  napping.  .  .  .  By 
day  he  hid  himself  in  his  palace,  enjoying  the  stale  fun  of  obscene  favor- 
ites." 

^  Bianchi,  ii,  3.51. 


RETRIBUTION.  293 

a  biill  against  all  secret  societies,  especially  against  the 
Carbonari.  He  condemned  their  blasphemous  ritual  and 
their  sacrilegious  initiations.  He  warned  the  faithful 
against  their  discourses,  which,  he  said,  "seem  smoother 
than  oil,  but  are  naught  else  but  arrows  which  these  per- 
fidious men  use  to  wound  more  surely  those  who  are  not 
on  their  guard.  They  come  to  you  like  sheep,  but  they 
are  at  heart  only  devouring  wolves."  He  excommuni- 
cated not  only  the  Carbonari  themselves,  but  any  one  who, 
knowing  a  Carbonaro,  did  not  denounce  him,  or  who  read 
or  had  in  his  possession  any  of  their  tracts.^  With  both 
tlie  spiritual  and  temporal  agencies  of  the  Papacy  thus 
directed  against  the  sects,  and  with  Austria's  troops  and 
Metternich's  secret  spies  on  the  alert,  the  cause  of  Lil)- 
eralism  had  a  more  desperate  outlook  than  ever  in  the 
lloman  State. 

But  the  tyrant  who  most  distinguished  himself  in  these 
orgies  of  retaliation  was  Francis  IV,  Duke  of  Modena. 
He  had,  as  we  have  seen,  a  restless  ambition,  justified  in 
part  by  forcible  qualities,  which  found  his  little  duchy 
too  small  a  stage  on  which  to  exhibit  themselves.  He 
coveted  the  throne  of  Piedmont,  to  which,  could  the  Salic 
law  be  abrogated,  his  wife  might  succeed;  V)ut  not  content 
with  this  tantalizing  possibility,  he  already  dreamed  of 
making  himself  master  of  Northern  Italy.  He  accepted 
Austria's  tutelage  in  so  far  as  it  shielded  him  from  other 
interference,  but  he  was  of  too  imi)erious  a  nature  not 
to  fret  at  Metternicirs  dictatorial  manner  of  giving  ad- 
vice. And  now  lie  resolved  to  show  the  autocrats  of 
Europe  tliat,  since  they  made  ])ersecution  the  t<'st  of  abil- 
ity, he  could  out-Herod  them  all. 

A\  hen  Austrian  troops  had  passed  through  Modenese 
tci'i'itory  on  their  wav  to  supj)ress  the  revolution  in  Naples, 
incendiary  tracts  had  been  secretly  circidated  amonic  the 
Hungarian  soldiers,  urging  them  to  refuse,  at  the  bidding 

'   This  bull  is  I'lititk-d   /v  ,7,  .sium  d  Jtsu  C/iristn. 


294  THE   DAWN   OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

of  their  Austrian  masters,  to  crush  the  efforts  for  freedom 
of  a  people,  like  themselves,  oppressed.  The  appeal  failed 
to  rouse  the  Hungarians;  but  it  roused  the  Duke  of  Mo- 
dena.  He  had  flattered  himself  that  no  conspirators 
dared  wink  or  whisper  in  his  police-haunted  duchy;  yet 
here  was  proof  positive  of  a  conspiracy.  Francis,  there- 
fore, ordered  many  arrests,  and  he  converted  the  old  for- 
tress of  Rubiera,  midway  between  Reggio  and  Modena, 
into  a  political  prison.  Thither  assembled  a  special  san- 
guinary commission  charged  with  prosecuting  the  accused. 
In  no  case  was  the  trial  to  extend  beyond  eight  days. 
"The  hangman  will  hold  himself  in  readiness,"  was  the 
Duke's  command,  "and  according  to  circumstances  the 
scaffold  may  be  erected  beforehand,  and  it  will  be  ar- 
ranged to  have  the  priest  ready  to  attend  those  who  are 
condemned."  Notwithstanding  these  preparations  for 
dispatch,  some  time  elapsed  without  noteworthy  results. 
Then  it  was  announced  that  one  of  the  prisoners  had  made 
a  confession  implicating  other  citizens.  Suspense  brooded 
over  Modena,  —  suspense  and  wrath.  At  length,  at  dusk 
on  May  14,  1822,  Sesini,  the  Director  of  Police,  hated 
as  the  right  hand  of  the  persecution,  was  stabbed  by  an 
unknown  assassin.  Sesini,  though  djdng,  deposed  that 
while  he  had  not  recognized  his  assailant,  he  felt  sure  it 
was  a  certain  Ponzoni,  against  whom  he  bore  a  grudge. 
Ponzoni  was  arrested,  and  although  he  established  an 
alibi,  and  although  the  real  assassin,  Moranti,  was  known 
to  have  escaped,  he  was  imprisoned  for  nine  years.  Tlien 
the  bloody  assizes  began  in  earnest.  The  commission 
proceeded  to  examine  the  prisoners  from  whom  Sesini,  by 
l)arbarous  means,  had  extorted  confessions.  One  of  the 
victims,  Giovanni  Mariotti,  had  been  cliained  in  an  up- 
right position  for  many  days,  and  flogged  daily  until  his 
mind  gave  way,  and  he  subscribed  to  a  deposition  the 
very  contents  of  which  he  did  not  understand ;  when  the 
judges  came  to  pass  sentence,  they  found  him  a  maniac. 


RETRIBUTION.  295 

Antonio  Nizzoli,  similarly  tortured  for  forty  clays,  had 
still  mind  enough  left  to  tell  the  tribunal  that  the  reve- 
lations which  Sesini  had  wrung  from  him  were  false. 
"Conti  was  entrapped  by  a  forged  confession  attributed 
to  another  prisoner;  All)erici  was  gained  by  allurements 
and  flatteries ;  Caronzi  was  persuaded  by  the  prayers  and 
tears  of  his  wife,  whose  honor  was  said  to  have  been  the 
price  of  a  fallacious  promise  of  her  husband's  deliverance, 
he  being  sentenced  to  twenty  years'  penal  servitude,  a 
term  reduced  by  the  Duke  to  fifteen.  Perretti,  Maranesi, 
Farioli,  and  others  testified  to  similar  deceits  and  cruel- 
ties, ineffectually  employed  against  themselves;  some, 
unbeguiled  by  the  inducement  held  out  to  them,  remained 
silent."  1 

The  Duke,  whose  vindictiveness  could  not  be  appeased 
by  the  punishment  of  his  own  subjects,  reached  over  to 
Parma,  and  through  Austria's  agency  compelled  the 
Grand  Duchess  to  surrender  several  Parmese  suspects  to 
be  tried  at  liubiera.  Tlie  commission,  which,  although 
appointed  by  the  Duke,  had  still  a  regard  for  justice, 
dared  to  report  tliat  none  of  the  prisoners  were  guilty  of 
misdemeanors  deserving  more  than  a  year's  imprisonment; 
but  Francis  reversed  their  decision  and  sentenced  nine  to 
death  (some  of  whom  had  fled),  seven  to  the  galleys,  and 
thirty-one  to  long  im})risonment.  Andreoli,  a  young 
])ri('st,  was  the  only  one  who  suffered  death ;  the  charge 
against  liim  was  higli  treason  as  a  Carbonaro,  but  it  was 
proved  that  lie  liad  joined  tlu;  C\arbonari  in  the  spring  of 
1820,  wheivas  the  ducal  decree  inj])uting  liigh  treason  to 
any  one  wlio  joined  that  sect  had  been  issued  on  Se])tem- 
ber  20,  1820.  But  to  Francis  a  retroactive  law  was  as 
valid  as  any  otlier.  The  most  distinguished  of  the  fugi- 
tives who  escaj)ed  execution  was  Panizzi,  wlio  afterwards 
rose  to  be  Lil)rarian  of  tlie  I'ritish  M-  scum. 

By  this  remorseless  feiocity,  Francis  introduced  himself 

'   Fa^-an  :    Lifi'  nf  Sir  Anthoiii/  I'diiizzi  (London,  ISSl),  i,  ,];]. 


296  THE   DAWS   OF   ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

to  the  autocrats  of  Europe  as  a  man  of  action,  not  un- 
worthy, in  spite  of  the  limited  sphere  of  his  activity,  of  a 
place  among  the  fiercest  of  them.  The  Italians,  who  had 
sarcastically  nicknamed  him  the  "Dukeling,"  now  showed 
respect  for  his  ability  by  calling  him  the  "Butcher"  or 
the  "Hangman."  Henceforth  he  took  no  pains  to  conceal 
his  ambition  to  exercise  his  powers  in  a  larger  field  than 
his  little  duchy  offered.  When  a  proposition  emanated 
from  the  cabinets  of  Turin  and  Vienna,  that  Europe 
should  unite  in  shipping  to  America  all  the  political 
plotters  under  arrest  or  suspicion,  Francis  was  one  of 
the  few  rulers  who  approved  the  monstrous  plan.^  He 
seconded  Metternich's  almost  equally  monstrous  sugges- 
tion, that  the  princes  of  Italy  should  establish  a  sort  of 
central  police  station,  or  criminal  clearing-house,  before 
which  political  offenders  from  any  part  of  the  Peninsula 
might  be  haled  and  summarily  punished ;  and  he  hoped 
that  Modena  would  be  selected  as  the  site  of  this  police 
station,  and  himself  as  its  chief  jailer.  He  presented 
to  the  Congress  of  Verona  a  memorial  in  which  he  set 
forth  distinctly  the  causes  of  the  existing  troubles. 
Among  these  he  cited  the  lack  of  religion,  the  diminution 
of  the  clergy,  the  annihilation  of  the  nobility,  the  subdi- 
vision of  fortunes  through  the  abolition  of  the  law  of 
primogeniture,  the  mercenaries  of  the  army,  corruption 
of  manners,  evil  education,  the  abolition  of  religious  cor- 
porations and  of  secular  guilds,  "which  distingviish  the 
classes  of  men,  hold  them  in  a  necessary  and  helpful  dis- 
cipline, and  serve  to  keep  them  busy."  He  inveighed 
against  the  too  great  increase  in  the  number  of  govern- 
ment employees;  but  above  all  against  "the  excessive 
consideration  given,  without  distinction  of  merits,  to  any 
literary  man ;  and  the  excessive  multiplication  of  all  kinds 
of  professors  and  the  excessive  power  and  right  accorded 
to  them ;  and  the  excessive  facility  established  everywhere 
1  Biauchi,  ii,  90. 


RETRIBUTION.  297 

for  the  youth  to  study,  which  makes  so  many  unhappy 
and  discontented,  because  they  cannot  all  find  an  occupa- 
tion ;  and  the  excessive  education  given  to  every  one,  so 
that  he  learns  nothing  thoroughly  and  becomes  con- 
ceited." As  further  causes  of  the  epidemic  of  Liberalism, 
the  Duke  specified  laziness,  intercourse  with  strangers,  the 
slow  administration  of  justice,  the  capricious  levying  of 
taxes,  and  the  laws  which  hindered  free  traffic  in  provi- 
sions. He  scoffed  at  the  idea  of  unitins:  the  diverse  ele- 
ments  of  Italy  into  a  single  national  bond,  and  maintained 
that  the  way  to  preserve  tranquillity  was  to  foster  section- 
alism by  giving  to  each  district  a  government  in  harmony 
with  its  traditions  and  genius.^  No  doubt,  when  tlie 
diplomats  at  Verona  listened  to  this  utterance  of  thoughts 
they  all  were  thinking,  thoy  congratulated  themselves  in 
having  in  the  Duke  of  Modena  an  ally  who  could  act 
fearlessly  and  reason  clearly. 

The  presence  of  Austrian  regiments  and  the  vigilance 
of  the  Austrian  police  had  thwarted  the  plans  of  the 
conspirators  in  Lombardy  and  Venetia;  for  there,  also, 
many  men,  and  among  tliem  many  eminent  in  rank  or 
culture,  were  secretly  nursing  patriotic  liopes.  At  the 
time  of  the  Neapolitan  revolution,  the  Liberals  had  ex- 
]>ected  day  by  day  the  cropi)ing  out  of  some  favorable 
incident  which  should  be  the  signal  for  a  rising;  l)ut  a 
few  precautionary  arr(>sts  —  among  them,  those  of  Silvio 
Pellico,  an  amiable  young  man  already  known  as  a  lyric 
])oet  and  successful  playwright,  and  of  MaronccUi,  Lade- 
schi,  and  Count  Porro  —  warned  the  plotters  that  tlie 
government  was  on  the  alert.  Nevertlieless,  tliey  did 
not  los(;  heart,  and  wlien  tlie  insurrection  broke  out  in 
Piedmont  they  dis])atch('d  messengers  to  Turin  to  urge 
the  Piedmontcse  to  mai'cli  into  Lombardy,  wliei-e  tlie 
Tx>iiibanls  woidd  receive  them  as  liberators.  Ibit  at  the 
last  moment,  as  we  liave  seen,  Count  Confalonieri   had 

'    l]i:iiiclii.  ii.  ;')")7-('>l. 


298  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

been  obliged  to  send  word  that  tlie  Milanese  were  not 
ready,  and  that  an  insurrection  would  be  futile.  So  the 
months  passed  without  witnessing  any  commotion ;  Met- 
ternich's  "quiet  on  the  surface"  was  as  unruffled  as  the 
bosom  of  an  ice-bound  lake.  But  while  the  conspirators 
were  congratulating  themselves  at  having  escaped  the 
penalty  of  an  unsuccessful  attempt,  or  were,  like  Confa- 
lonieri,  burning  with  shame  for  those  who  had  let  "I  dare 
not  stand  upon  I  would,"  the  Austrian  police  were  noise- 
lessly picking  up  evidence  and  here  and  there  arresting 
suspects.  In  the  autumn  of  1821  they  established  an  In- 
quisitorial Commission  at  Milan  under  the  direction  of 
Salvotti,  a  Tyrolese  as  relentless  as  Draco,  and  as  cun- 
ning as  he  was  relentless.  Still,  no  very  damaging  facts 
had  been  discovered,  until  a  certain  Gaetano  Castiglia 
was  arrested  on  the  suspicion  of  having  been  the  bearer 
of  the  dispatclies  to  the  Piedmontese.  Castiglia  would 
doubtless  have  been  released,  through  lack  of  sufficient 
testimony  against  him,  had  not  his  friend,  Marquis  Pal- 
lavicini,  hoping  to  save  him,  appeared  before  the  Commis- 
sion, and  announced:  "Castiglia  is  innocent.  Pie  knew 
nothing  about  the  dispatches.  I  took  them  myself." 
This  generous  act  proved  fatal.  Salvotti,  who  had  been 
angling  for  minnows,  suddenly  found  himself  in  the  way 
to  land  larger  fish.  Pallavicini,  impetuous  and  unskilled 
in  dissembling,  revealed  more  than  he  was  aware,  and 
then,  perceiving  that  he  liad  not  only  ruined  himself,  but 
also  endangered  his  friends,  he  feigned  madness.  But 
this  ruse  did  not  deceive  the  handsome,  flashing  eyes  of 
Salvotti.  "Give  him  some  hen-food,"  he  said  sarcasti- 
cally, when  Pallavicini,  flapping  his  arms  and  insisting 
that  he  was  a  bird,  was  l)rouglit  before  the  tribunal. 

Consternation  and  suspense  reigned  at  Milan.  No  one 
knew  what  secrrets  were  being  extorted  by  the  silent,  im- 
pt'rtiirbable  Commission.  It  was  observed  that  larger 
prison  quarters  were  i)reparing,   that    domiciliary  visits 


RETRIBUTION.  299 

were  more  frequent,  that  the  police  had  cast  their  drag- 
net and  taken  in  victims  at  Brescia,  Venice,  and  Mantua. 
Rumors,  ahnost  as  distracting  as  the  truth  wouhl  have 
been,  flew  from  lip  to  lip,  and  made  anxiety  contagious. 
When  friend  bade  friend  good-night,  neither  knew  which 
of  them  might  be  hurried  to  prison  before  morning.  Con- 
sciousness of  innocence  was  no  safeguard  against  dread ; 
for  the  innocent  and  the  guilty  were  alike  exposed  to 
arrest,  examination,  and  torture. 

At  last  the  thunderbolt  fell.  Milan,  bewildered,  heard 
that  Count  Frederic  Confalonieri  had  been  seized  in  his 
j)alace,  and  was  now  in  one  of  the  cells  of  the  Inquisi- 
torial Commission.  This  distinguished  man,  whose  tragic 
doom  soon  rang  throughout  Europe,  belonged  to  an  old 
and  noble  family.  Ilis  natural  gifts  had  been  enhanced 
by  an  education  far  superior  to  that  which  the  Italian 
aristocrat  ordinarily  received.  In  his  younger  days  he 
had  traveled  in  P" ranee  and  England,  studying  the  con- 
ditions of  those  countries  and  forming  acquaintance  with 
men  of  worth.  Ilis  rare  culture  was  directed  by  a  char- 
acter of  simple  dignity  and  uprightness.  At  the  downfall 
of  Nai)()leon  he  had  headed  a  delegation  of  Lombards  who 
went  to  Paris  to  plead  before  tlie  Allied  Sovereigns  for 
an  inde])endent  government.  Failing  in  this,  he  had 
devoted  liimsclf  to  the  improvement  of  liis  countiymen  by 
establisliing  schools  for  mutual  instruction,  by  introducing 
better  machinery  into  the  factories,  by  encouraging  the 
adoption  of  gas  in  the  streets  of  Milan,  and  of  steain])oats 
on  the  Po.  lie  had  been  associated  with  the  pul)lic- 
s])irited  men  who  condncted  the  Coiic'iJidforc  newspa])er. 
While  he  never  concealed  his  patriotic  as])irations,  he 
accepted  the  rule  of  Austria  as  a  tenqxn-ary  evil  which 
nuist  be  cured  throiigli  the  gradual  advance  of  the  Ital- 
ians in  education  and  integrity.  He  was,  in  a  word, 
such  a  citizen,   enliglitened    and    i)ul)lic-spirited,   as  any 


300  THE    DAWN   OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

but  a  despotic  government  would  have  honored.^  His 
rank  and  superior  qualities  made  him  the  representative 
of  the  nobility ;  his  efforts  in  their  behalf  gained  for  him 
the  affectionate  confidence  of  the  masses;  and  when  the 
Liberals  laid  plots  for  a  rebellion,  he  was  the  leader  to 
whom  they  turned  for  advice.  His  name  was  a  warrant 
of  the  moderation  and  plausibility  of  their  efforts.  How 
far  he  allowed  himself  to  be  drawn  into  the  formal  pro- 
ceedings of  the  sects  we  cannot  say,  but  he  was  known  to 
have  had  communications  with  Tuscan  Liberals,  and  with 
Charles  Albert,  and  to  have  dissuaded  the  Piedmontese 
from  their  invasion  when  he  saw  that  it  would  be  hopeless. 
At  the  time  of  the  rising  in  Piedmont  he  had  been  con- 
fined to  his  bed  at  the  point  of  death.  Months  passed, 
and  he  felt  secure.  Even  the  warning  of  Bubna,  the 
Austrian  general,  to  Countess  Confalouieri,  "It  would 
be  wise  for  your  husband  to  travel  abroad  for  his  health," 
did  not  alarm  him ;  either  because  he  believed  he  had  left 
no  traces  for  the  police  to  track  him  by,  or  because  he 
feared  that  flight  would  be  taken  as  proof  of  his  guilt, 
and  would  subject  his  property  to  confiscation  and  his 
family  to  ruin.  Nevertheless,  he  took  care  to  cut  a  secret 
door  in  the  wall  of  his  palace  by  which  to  escape  in  case 
ot  need ;  but  on  that  winter  morning  when  the  carabineers 
came  to  arrest  him,  the  key  to  the  door  could  not  be 
found,  and  he  was  forced  to  give  himself  up. 

Almost  at  tlie  same  time  a  young  Frenchman  named 
Andryane,  who  came  into  Italy  as  a  secret  agent  of  the 
Sublime  Masters  of  the  French  Carbonari,  was  put  under 
arrest,  and  among  his  effects  the  police  found  papers  most 
damaging  to  the  Italian  consjDirators.  Other  arrests  fol- 
lowed, and  then  ensued  a  long  and  harrowing  trial.  The 
jn-osecutiou,  conducted  by  Salvotti,  spared  no  means 
which  cunning  could  suggest,  to  wring  from  the  prisoners 

^  In  the  Life  and  Letters  of  George  Ticknor  are  several  interesting  refer- 
ences to  Confalonieri. 


RETRIBUTION.  301 

a  confession  not  only  of  their  own  guilt,  but  of  the  names 
of  their  accomplices.  Sometimes  the  dazed  wretch  was 
seduced  into  a  revelation  by  hearing  the  forged  deposition 
of  one  of  his  fellows ;  sometimes,  after  being  left  in  his 
dungeon  for  mouths,  lie  was  examined  anew,  and  then 
confronted  by  his  former  testimony;  sometimes  he  was 
promised  pardon  if  he  would  tell  what  his  accusers  wished, 
or  his  mother  or  wife  was  brought  to  him  in  the  hope 
that  womanly  tears  and  entreaties  and  the  strong  incite- 
ments of  affection  would  overcome  his  silence.  The 
Austrian  code  did  not  permit  the  accused  to  question  or 
ev5n  to  know  his  accusers ;  it  also  denied  him  legal  ad- 
visers. "We  are  both  your  counsel  and  your  judges," 
was  Salvotti's  curt  reply  to  Arrivabene,  who  had  asked 
for  an  attorney.^  But  Austria  had  still  more  violent 
means  for  breaking  the  spirit  of  those  who  were  too  wary 
or  too  steadfast  to  be  disconcerted  by  cross-examination. 
She  added  i)hysical  torture  to  the  horrors  of  imprison- 
ment and  to  the  persecution  before  the  tribunal ;  as  many 
as  forty  stripes  were  laid  every  other  day  on  the  backs 
of  stubborn  prisoners.  "I  call  to  mind  by  dozens  those 
unfortunate  wretches  to  whom  this  torture  was  ap})lie(l 
for  months,  both  men  and  women,"  says  Confalonieri. 
"One  counts  500,  another  1,000,  another  2,000  lashes 
received  with  the  interval  prescribed  in  order  to  increase 
their  painfulness."^  Nevertheless,  in  spite  of  all  this 
cruelty,  few,  indeed,  of  tlie  prisoners  gave  way;  in  all 
biit  a  few  cases,  whatever  indiscreet  admission  was  madt; 
slii)ped  out  through  unwuriness  rather  than  tlirough  an 
ignoble  purpose  to  escape  ])unislunent  by  treachery- 

We  need  not  follow  in  detail  the  tedious  trial  of  Confa- 

^  Arrivabene:    MitiKrrii'  (Florence,   1SS(»),  i,  ()4. 

-  Confalonieri:  Mcinorir  i-  T^tttrr  (Milan,  ISS'.t),  i,  4li,  note,  ■where  lio 
adds:  '■Alcimi  vi  lianno  interaniente  perdute  le  natiehe,  le  (jnali  dilanate 
ed  iinpiitridittt  dovetU'nii  aniputare  ;  altri  ne  riniiisero  sciancale  (*  non  pin 
uoniini  per  la  vita  ;  cd  i  (jui  {jiunti  sono  (juelli  die  pure  non  so<'Conibeltero 
sotto  il  bcl-stone  I  " 


302  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

lonieri  and  his  fellow-victims.  From  the  first,  conviction 
was  certain,  and  the  pretended  adherence  to  legal  forms 
but  a  mockery.  Salvotti's  intent  was  to  implicate  other 
conspirators,  but  in  this  he  failed.  December  came,  and 
it  was  known  that  the  evidence  against  the  prisoners  had 
been  forwarded  to  Vienna  for  the  Emperor  to  pass  sen- 
tence upon  them.  The  guarded  hints  of  Austrian  offi- 
cials left  no  doubt  that  the  sentence  would  be  death. 
Then  Countess  Confalonieri,  accompanied  by  her  aged 
father-in-law  and  her  brother,  secured  passports  in  spite 
of  Salvotti's  hindrance,  and  posted  to  Vienna.  Day  and 
night  that  coach  with  its  agonized  occupants  did  not  rest: 
on  it  sped  over  the  Alps,  on  through  bleak  Carinthia,  on 
through  the  valleys  of  Styria,  till  at  last  it  reached  the 
Austrian  capital.  The  Countess  first  visited  the  P^m- 
press,  whose  heart  was  touched  and  who  promised  to 
intercede  for  her;  then  she  had  an  audience  of  the  Em- 
peror himself.  But  how  could  she  touch  the  heart  of 
that  frigid,  self-complacent,  little  man,  who  bluntly  re- 
plied to  her  supplication,  "Madam,  your  husband  is  the 
most  dangerous  fellow  in  Italy.  Were  our  positions  re- 
versed, how  would  he  have  treated  me?"  Still,  the 
decree  had  not  yet  been  signed,  there  might  still  be  hope 
of  turning  the  Emperor's  decision  towards  mercy.  She 
saw  Prince  Metternich,  who  was  polite,  but  told  her  that 
he  had  no  power  to  help  her;  she  saw  the  Duchess  of 
Parma,  who  gave  her  sympathy.  But  the  days  flew  by, 
and  she  had  no  relief  from  suspense.  Then  she  was  sum- 
moned before  the  Emperor  again.  "Madam,"  he  said, 
"as  a  special  mark  of  my  good-will  towards  yourself,  I 
inform  you  that  a  courier  has  already  been  dispatched 
with  a  sentence  of  death  for  your  husband.  If  you  wish 
to  see  your  husband  still  alive,  I  advise  you  to  quit 
Vienna  immediately."  At  these  cruel  words.  Countess 
Theresa  fell  in  a  swoon.  ^     When  she  was  restored  to  con- 

^  Poggi  (i.  407)  says  that  the  Countess  had  no  audience  with  the  Em- 


RETRIBUTION.  303 

sciousness,  after  a  brief,  sobbing  interview  with  the  Em- 
press, she  and  her  stricken  relatives  took  coach  again  and 
posted  back.  On  the  second  day  of  their  journey  the 
father,  too  ill  to  proceed,  had  to  be  left  behind;  the  sister 
and  brother  went  on,  desperately,  sleeplessly,  traversing 
those  snow-blocked  roads,  asking  at  each  station  news  of 
the  courier  who  had  started  many  hours  before  them. 
And  so  they  repassed  the  Alps,  and  galloped  over  the 
milder  plains  of  Lombardy,  and  reached  Milan.  The 
courier  had  not  yet  arrived.  Fortunately,  he  had  been 
delayed  by  the  breaking  of  his  carriage,  and  before  the 
sentence  he  bore  could  be  executed  a  second  messenger 
came,  bringing  a  respite  which  Francis  had  granted  at 
the  entreaties  of  the  Empress.  A  respite,  — but  for  how 
long?  No  one  knew.  But  hope  revived,  and  again 
Casati,  Theresa's  brother,  set  out  on  that  journey  to 
Vienna,  —  that  Via  Cruci,'<,  —  taking  with  him  a  petition 
signed  by  the  Viceroy  and  the  Archbishop,  by  the  clergy 
and  nobility,  beseeching  the  P^mperor  to  be  mercifid. 

Such  being  the  suspense,  the  agonj^  of  their  friends  out- 
side, who  shall  tell  the  condition  of  the  prisoners  them- 
selves, who  had  not  even  physical  liberty,  nor  jiowor  of 
action,  nor  compassionate  voices  to  direct  or  to  comfort 
them?  Judges  and  jailers  gave  them  not  a  hint  of  what 
they  might  expect.  The  death-watch  was  stationed  over 
them, — at  last  they  need  suffer  no  more  sus|)('nse.  At 
one  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  January  21,  1824,  they 
were  removed  from  their  cells  to  the  chapel  in  the  PaLicc 
of  Justice,  where  condemned  prisoners  passc<l  the  hist  few 
lioui's  before  execution.  There  several  of  these  men  who 
were  involv'cd  in   a  single  calamity  s})()ke  to  each  otlier 

peror,  aiul  cites  tlie  Countess's  brother  as  witness.  I  liave  followed  tlu! 
at'coiint  wliich  she  lierself  g-uve  Andrynne's  sister,  inniiediately  after  re- 
tuniiii<^  from  \'ieiina.  (See  Andryane  :  Memoirs  of  a  I'risouer  of  State.) 
All  aecouiitsaf^ree  tliat  the  Kinperor  .s.-iid  siihstantially  what  1  have  (pioted  ; 
l)uf  whether  he  said  it  to  Theresa  or  to  her  father-in-law  is  the  point  in 
dispute- 


304  THE   DAWN   OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

for  the  first  time.  Confalonieri,  who  had  been  for  months 
at  the  point  of  death  from  heart-disease,  had  to  be  helped 
in  by  gendarmes  and  hiid  fainting  on  a  cot-bed.  When 
he  had  recovered  sufficiently,  he  held  out  his  hand  to  his 
fellow- victims.  Pallavicini,  whose  rashness  had  brought 
them  all  to  this  strait,  asked  and  received  forgiveness. 
Presently  officers  came  and  led  them  to  another  room, 
where  the  Inquisitorial  Commission  was  assembled.  Next 
to  the  President  sat  Salvotti,  whose  black  hair  and  flash- 
ing eyes  made  his  always  pale  face  seem  paler  in  the  lamp- 
light. The  Secretary  read  the  sentences.  Confalonieri, 
guilty  of  high  treason,  was  condemned  to  death ;  but,  the 
Secretary  added,  after  a  pause,  "the  capital  punishment, 
by  the  inexhaustible  clemency  of  his  majesty,  has  been 
commuted  to  imprisonment  for  life  in  the  fortress  of  Spiel- 
berg." To  Andryane  a  similar  doom  was  allotted;  Pal- 
lavicini, Borsieri,  and  Castiglia  were  condemned  to  twenty 
years'  solitary  confinement,  and  Torrelli  to  ten  years'. 
But  their  ordeal  was  not  yet  ended  for  that  day.  Smiths 
came  and  riveted  chains  on  their  legs,  and  then  they  were 
led  bareheaded  out  in  the  wintry  air  to  the  pillory  erected 
against  the  walls  of  the  palace.  Confalonieri  was  so  weak 
that  he  had  to  be  supported ;  and  all  the  time  he  dreaded 
lest  the  multitudes  assembled  in  the  square,  and  the  Hun- 
garian troops  who  hemmed  them  in,  should  mistake  his 
physical  weakness  for  cowardice.  The  sentence  and  com- 
mutation were  read  from  a  balcony,  and  then  the  victims 
were  taken  back  to  their  cells,  to  await  their  departure 
for  Spielberg. 

On  his  way  thither  Confalonieri  had  a  memorable  in- 
terview with  Metternich  at  Vienna.  The  Chancellor  came 
out  of  breath  into  the  room  assigned  to  the  prisoner,  and 
chaffed  him  for  lodging  so  high  up.  Then,  assuming  a 
more  serious  tone,  he  discussed  at  great  length  the  Ital- 
ian revolutions  and  their  failure.  The  struggle  between 
opposing  and  irreconcilable  principles  had  been  decided, 


RETRIBUTION.  305 

"and  decided,"  he  said,  "not  only  for  ours,  but  for  many, 
many  generations."  He  spoke  with  that  air  of  candor 
which  he  couhl  so  well  simulate.  He  became  confidential. 
He  hinted  that,  now  that  the  crisis  had  passed,  Coufa- 
lonieri  could  do  no  better  than  confess  that  he  had  been 
led  astray  into  treasonable  acts  through  miscalculating  the 
resources  of  Liberalism.  Let  them  talk  freely,  as  gentle- 
men who  knew  each  other  too  well  to  wish  to  deceive  each 
other.  Any  admission  that  Confalonieri  might  make 
could  not  possibly  harm  him ;  it  might,  on  the  contrary, 
help  to  melt  the  Emperor's  sternness.  As  a  hawk,  which 
has  soared  high,  turns  earthward  in  contracting  spires 
before  swooping  on  his  prey,  so  the  astute  Chancellor 
circled  a  long  time  round  the  real  purpose  of  his  inteview, 
which  was  to  secure  proofs  of  Charles  Albert's  complicity 
in  the  revolution.  He  was  too  wily  to  put  the  question 
point-blank.  "  We  have  examined  more  than  a  hundred 
and  fifty  persons  and  spent  more  than  a  million  and  a 
half,  and  with  what  results?  We  have  only  convicted 
yourself,  and  three  unimportant  conspirators.  Of  mem- 
bers without  a  head  there  are  examples,  but  a  head  with- 
out members  is  an  absurdity.  When  we  come  to  you  and 
to  all  those  who  are  nearest  to  you,  everything  is  dark, 
and  but  for  the  ingenuousness  of  an  inexpert  youth,  who 
was  certainly  not  in  your  secret,  all  would  perha])s  have 
remained  dark  forever."  But  Confalonieri  protested  that 
he  had  nothing  more  to  disclose  than  he  liad  already  told 
at  his  trial.  Then  Metternich  touclied  another  diord : 
"Your  conduct  has  been  by  your  own  evidence  confused 
and  irrational ;  yet  we  know  that  you  ar(>  a  man  of  high 
intelligence, — tliat  you  do  not  act  without  deliberation 
and  clear  motives.  Surely  you  will  not  consent  to  re- 
main before  the  woild  in  this  absui'd  ])osture,  wliieli  de- 
tracts from  your  reputation  of  reasoual»leuess  1  "'  Still 
Confalonieri  I'csisted  ;  even  this  apj)eal  to  his  vanitv  could 
not  move  hiui.      It  was  suggested  that  lie  miglit  prefer  to 


306  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

make  his  revelations  to  a  more  August  Personage,  but  he 
replied  that,  as  he  could  only  repeat  to  the  Emperor  what 
he  had  said  to  the  Chancellor  himself,  the  interview  would 
be  unnecessary.  Then  Metternich,  having  exhausted  his 
arts,  looked  at  his  watch,  found  that  more  than  three  hours 
had  been  spent  in  his  fruitless  visit,  remembered  that  he 
had  an  engagement  at  a  ball,  "and  took  his  leave  with 
that  amiable  urbanity  which  he  had  shown  throughout  the 
whole  conversation."  1 

Two  days  later  Gonfalon  ieri  set  out  for  the  fortress  of 
Spielberg,  which  frowns  over  the  city  of  Briinn,  the  cap- 
ital of  Moravia.  Infamous  Prison  of  Spielberg,  your 
name  shall  still  be  loathsome  among  men  long  after  the 
Austrian  State  shall  have  been  dissolved  forever  I  Nature 
may  hide  with  wild-flowers  your  crumbled  foundations; 
children  may  play  among  your  ruins ;  yet  shall  the  mem- 
ory of  the  crimes  against  humanity  committed  within 
your  walls  come  back  to  plague  the  conscience  of  Europe ! 
In  history  you  shall  loom  up  as  a  monument  to  the 
tyranny  of  Metternich  and  his  Hapsburg  master,  as  the 
Bastille  looms  up  in  condemnation  of  the  wickedness  of 
the  Bourbons. 

It  is  not  because  many  Italian  prisoners  suffered  on 
the  Spielberg,  —  they  numbered  but  a  few  score  alto- 
gether, —  nor  because  Austria  was  not  justified  from  her 
standpoint  in  punishing  political  agitators ;  it  is  because 
she  employed  means  that  were  base,  torments  as  inhu- 
man as  they  were  needless,  that  we  condemn  her.  She 
sullied  her  hand  in  persecutions  so  foul  that  all  tlie  per- 
fumes of  Arabia  could  not  sweeten  it.  She  played  with 
her  victims  as  a  cat  with  a  mouse,  biting,  harrying,  but 
not  killing.  If  there  must  be,  let  thtn-e  be  capital  pun- 
ishment; have  off  the  head  by  guillotine,  or  break  the 
neck  by  hanging;  and  then  say  justice  has  been  appeased 
with  as  little  inhumanity  as  possible ;  but,  after  having 

^  Confalonieri,  i,  iriH-TT. 


RETRIBUTION.  307 

shackled  your  enemy  to  the  wall  of  a  filthy,  cramped  dun- 
geon, to  starve  him  by  inches,  to  corrupt  his  soul  by 
lying  confessors  and  spies,  to  reduce  his  mind  to  idiocy, 
—  this  is  not  justice,  but  the  malicious  cruelty  of  the  cow- 
ard and  the  brute.  And  of  all  this,  Emperor  Francis, 
your  pettifogging  soul  was  guilty ;  this  was  your  "  inex- 
haustible clemency,"  this  was  your  sanctimonious  regard 
for  the  spiritual  weKare  of  even  your  erring  subjects ! 

For,  in  truth,  the  ICmperor  took  the  treatment  of  the 
political  prisoners  under  his  especial  charge.  In  his 
writing-desk  he  kept  a  plan  of  their  cells,  and  received 
minute  reports  of  their  condition.  Not  so  much  as  a 
coarse  coverlid  could  be  given  to  one  of  them  unless  the 
permission  were  granted  by  him.  He  canceled  their 
names,  and  referred  to  them  only  by  numbers;  so  that 
the  superintendent  of  the  Spielberg  received  from  his  im- 
perial master  such  messages  as  these :  "  Diminish  Number 
Ten's  ration  of  beans,"  or  "Allow  Number  Seven  coffee 
once  a  month."  lie  denied  them  books,  even  their 
l)rayer-books.  "You  have  sinned  by  your  intellect;  by 
your  intellect  you  shall  suffer,"  was  his  decree.  But  when 
he  found  that  several  of  them  were  being  driven  to  insan- 
ity through  this  enforced  idleness,  he  commanded  that 
rags  from  tlie  hospital  be  furnished  them  to  pick.  Later, 
as  a  sign  of  his  favor,  tliey  were  given  yarn  and  needles, 
and  bidden  to  knit  stockings  or  mittens,  which  were  sent 
to  him.  In  looking  them  over,  if  a  heel  were  not  well 
rounded  or  a  thumb  well  joined,  he  took  it  as  proof  that 
the  knitter  was  still  refractory,  and  had  him  threatened 
with  severer  punishment.  This  man  was  not  a  poor  lout- 
ish turnkey,  l)ut  liis  A])ostolic  Majesty,  Francis  the 
First,  by  the  grace  of  (iod,  Km})eror  of  Austria,  King 
of  Hungary  and  Bohemia,  the  monarch  u}>f)n  whose  wis- 
dom the  fate  of  thirty  niillions  subjet-ts  ih'pended,  tlie 
arl)iter  of  Kuroj)e!      Boor  Kuropel 

To  rehearse  the  story  of  the   misery  undergone   by  tlie 


308  THE   DAWN    OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

prisoners  of  the  Spielberg,  it  is  not  here  required.  That 
story,  written  in  their  blood,  has  been  told  by  several  of 
the  survivors.  In  the  pages  of  Pellico,  Maroncelli,  An- 
dryane,  and  Confalonieri,  whoever  so  wills  can  read  how 
some  of  the  noblest  men  of  Italy  were  subjected  by  the 
Austrian  emperor  to  torments  which  he  deemed  too  cruel 
for  common  murderers;  how  their  bodies,  fed  only  on 
nauseating  slops,  wasted;  how  their  reason  tottered,  worn 
out  by  sleeplessness  and  lack  of  mental  food;  how  the 
priest  Paulovich  was  sent  to  entice  revelations  from  them 
at  the  confessional;  how  they  learned  to  communicate 
with  each  other  by  tapping  on  the  walls  of  their  cells ; 
how  they  strained  their  ingenuity  to  devise  means  for 
writing;  how  decoy  prisoners  were  stationed  with  them  to 
draw  their  confidence  in  unguarded  moments;  how  Con- 
falonieri was  twice  on  the  point  of  escaping,  and  twice 
frustrated;  how  Maroncelli,  after  months  of  suffering, 
had  his  leg  amputated ;  how  a  man  like  Pellico,  whose 
literary  work  was  already  the  delight  of  thousands,  was 
reduced  to  watch  spiders  spinning  their  web ;  how  in  spite 
of  outrages  worse  than  death,  in  spite  of  the  terrible 
temptations  to  purchase  liberty  by  betraj^al,  their  honor 
and  fortitude  stood  firm  to  the  end.  These  things  man 
recorded,  and  Nemesis  did  not  forget.  Little  could  those 
passive  sufferers  foresee  that  their  very  captivity  would 
contribute  to  the  liberation  of  their  country.  Little  did, 
the  sleek  Metternich  imagine  that  for  every  day's  agony 
of  each  prisoner  in  the  Spielberg,  he  was  raising  up  in 
Italy  a  score  of  irreconcilable  patriots,  whom  all  the 
blandishments  of  Austria  could  not  seduce,  nor  all  her 
menaces  terrify. 

But  as  yet  the  day  of  reckoning  was  still  distant,  and 
only  believed  in  by  those  who  do  not  lose  faith  in  Neme- 
sis when  its  reprisal  is  not  immediate.  Metternich  and 
the  European  sovereigns  had  met  in  Congress  at  Verona 
late  in  1822,  and  after  congratulating  themselves  on  the 


RETRIBUTION.  309 

ease  with  which  the  "genius  of  evil "  had  been  suppressed 
in  Naples  and  Piedmont,  they  gave  their  tacit  approval 
to  Austria's  interference  in  Italy.  One  of  the  important 
matters  they  had  to  settle  was  the  succession  to  the  throne 
of  Piedmont.  Charles  Albert,  the  heir  presumptive,  had, 
through  his  implication  in  the  late  revolt,  roused  the  vio- 
lent hatred  of  the  actual  king,  Charles  Felix,  and  revived 
Metternich's  hope  of  transferring  the  crown  to  the  Duch- 
ess of  Modeua.  The  unfortunate  prince,  condemned  by 
the  Absolutists  as  a  Liberal  and  despised  by  the  Liberals 
as  a  renegade,  dwelt  in  disgrace  at  Florence,  trying  to 
show,  by  his  submissive  conduct  and  quiet  life,  —  broken 
only  by  occasional  gallant  escapades,  —  how  deeply  he 
repented  him  of  having  given  any  cause  for  misunderstand- 
ing. But  Charles  Felix  was  one  of  those  who  mistake 
their  prejudices  for  manifestations  of  the  moral  law,  and 
it  was  hard  to  convince  him  that  his  resentment  was  out 
of  all  proportion  to  the  young  man's  faults.  "I  do  my 
utmost,"  he  wrote,  "to  keep  him  safe,  until  such  time  as 
it  may  please  the  Divine  Goodness  to  operate  in  him  a 
miracle,  which  will  certainly  be  very  great  and  very  diffi- 
cult to  prove :  for  even  if  he  should  luidergo  the  penance 
of  an  ancliorite  and  even  draw  blood,  it  would  not  be  cer- 
tain that  his  conversion  were  sincere."  Although  only 
good  reports  came  of  the  penitent,  still  the  King  was  un- 
moved. "I  think,"  said  he,  "that  the  Prince  of  Cari- 
gnano's  big  moustaches  indicate  the  Carbonaro  rather  than 
the  Convert.  God  alone  sees  the  lieart.  He  may  have 
wroufflit  the  miracle  of  his  conversion,  but  He  has  not  vet 
wroujjht  in  me  that  of  beiny;  convinced  of  it."^  There 
was,  nevertheless,  one  tiling  more  repugnant  than  Charles 
All)ert's  Liberalism  to  Charles  Felix:  and  that  was  the 
])rospcct  of  Piedmont's  passing  out  of  the  control  of  the 
House  of  Savoy.  At  the  most,  he  would  havi'  ])rovi(led 
for  a  regency  to  govern  at  his  death  until   Charles  Al- 

'   IJianchi,  ii,  1 13. 


310  THE    DAWS    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

bert's  infant  son,  Victor  Emanuel,  should  grow  up.  But 
the  views  of  the  Grand  Duke  of  Tuscany,  of  the  French 
king,  and  the  Czar,  at  length  prevailed  with  him;  he 
agreed  that  the  young  prince  shovdd  be  forgiven  and 
acknowledged  as  heir  to  the  throne.  Metternich,  when 
he  saw  that  he  could  not  carry  through  his  scheme  in 
behalf  of  the  Duchess  of  Modena,  did  not  press  it,  but  he 
exacted  that  Charles  Albert  should  secretly  pledge  him- 
self in  no  wise  to  alter  the  form  of  government  in  Pied- 
mont if  he  ever  became  king.  Alone  among  the  ambas- 
sadors at  the  Congress,  Wellington  deemed  it  unfair  thus 
to  foreclose  the  future  of  a  possible  sovereign.^ 

Shortly  afterwards  the  French  Bourbons,  to  win  a  little 
of  that  military  glory  which  keeps  Frenchmen  talkative 
and  manageable,  organized  an  expedition  to  Spain,  to 
restore  to  the  Spanish  king  that  autocratic  power  of 
which  he  had  been  deprived  by  the  Constitutionalists. 
Austria  had  stifled  Liberalism  in  Italy;  France  could 
do  no  less  in  Spain.  Charles  Albert  had  permission 
granted  him  to  join  the  French  staff,  and  by  a  campaign 
againt  rebellious  Spaniards  to  expiate  his  own  unlucky 
connections  with  a  rebellion.  He  distinguished  himself 
at  the  storming  of  the  Trocadero,  —  the  only  serious  skir- 
mish of  the  war,  —  which  effected  the  release  of  King 
Ferdinand,  who,  while  shut  up  in  Cadiz  by  the  Constitu- 
tionalists, had  spent  his  time  in- flying  kites,  and  who 
now  made  a  triumphal  progress  back  to  his  capital, 
accompanied  by  thirty-eight  cooks  and  the  French  heroes. 
The  glory  achieved  was  tawdry  enough,  —  the  rescue  of 
Ferdinand,  with  his  kites  and  his  cooks,  seems  but  an 
Aristophanic  joke;  but  the  French  Bourbons  took  care 
to  advertise  themselves  as  mighty  men  of  war,  and  they 
lioped  that  the  capture  of  the  Trocadero  would  dim  the 
troublesome  splendor  of  Marengo  and  Austerlitz.  Let 
Bonapartists    cease    to    boast    of    their   Napoleon,  —  the 

1  Welling-ton  to  Canning,  Nov.  29,  1822. 


RETRIBUTION.  311 

Bourbon  Duke  of  Angouleme  was  a  very  God  of  War. 
The  chief  interest  of  this  campaign  lies  for  us  in  the  fact 
that  it  served  to  rehabilitate  Charles  Albert  in  the  eyes 
of  the  European  oligarchy.  Although  some  of  them  still 
distrusted  him,  they  could  no  longer  give  a  decent  ex- 
cuse for  excluding  him  from  the  Piedmontese  throne; 
that  he  was  not  excluded  had,  as  we  shall  see,  a  tremen- 
dous influence  upon  the  destiny  of  Italy. 

Such  was  the  vengeance  taken  by  the  despots  on  the 
unsuccessful  Italian  revolutionists  of  1820-21.  The  issue 
was  now  plain :  the  Liberals  had  not  only  their  respective 
princes  against  them,  but  also  all  the  might  of  Austria, 
behind  whom  loomed  the  other  partners  to  the  Holy 
Alliance.  The  odds  were  as  desperate  as  the  collapse 
had  been  complete,  and  they  might  well  teach  caution  if 
they  did  not  justify  despondence.  But  this  very  baptism 
of  suffering  was  to  prove  regenerative.  Only  after  men 
have  learned  to  prize  their  ideal  more  highly  than  their 
comfort,  or  than  life  itself,  are  they  equi])ped  to  win  their 
ideal.  In  those  days  of  sorrow,  the  Italians  began  to 
realize  that  the  precious  liberty  and  independence  for 
which  they  yearned  must  be  paid  for  in  sacrifices  and 
heroism  equivalent  to  the  full  value  of  those  blessings. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

UNDERCURRENTS,    1820-30. 

We  have  thus  witnessed  the  first  conflict  between  the 
New  Spirit  and  the  Old  Spirit:  the  former  proclaiming, 
Italy  shall  be  ;  the  latter  replying,  Italy  shall  were/'  he. 
The  two  ideas,  having  seethed  a  long  time  in  many  heads, 
have  got  into  the  hands,  have  met,  have  clashed,  and  the 
Old  Idea  has  conquered.      The  thought  first,  then  the  act, 

—  that  is  the  invariable  sequence;  and  as  acts  are  out- 
ward, they  express  themselves  by  material  forces.  Cher- 
ish what  aspirations  you  will,  they  remain  aspirations,  — 
mere  pretty  dreams  and  sterile  fancies,  —  unless  you 
realize  them  by  mastering  the  physical  forces  which 
would  prevent  them.  Is  it  a  statue  your  imagination  has 
conceived?  You  must  make  your  hand  harder  than  the 
marble.  Is  it  a  bridge  or  building?  It  will  lie  j^f^rdii  in 
your  brain  until  you  have  overcome  the  hostility  of  grav- 
itation. Is  it  a  law?  It  will  be  a  dead-letter  in  the 
statute  book  unless  you  have  convinced  a  majority  of 
your  countrymen  that  they  ought  to  abide  by  it.  Or 
have  you  beheld,  as  in  a  vision,  a  great  reform  in  gov- 
ernment or  church?  You  must  vanquish  the  dullness,  the 
conservatism,  the  greed,  the  timidity  of  society,  or  these 
will  destroy  you.     This  is  the  elemental  tragedy  of  life, 

—  the  Ideal  striving  to  utter  itself,  to  realize  itself,  in 
the  material  world,  where  Force  seems  often  hopelessly 
against  it.     And  Force  unguided  by  the  higher  lieason, 

—  how  brutal,  how  pitiless  it  is!  In  mankind,  as  in 
nature,  we  see  its  tempests  and  volcanic  outbursts,  its 
seasons  of  long  drought,  its  blight  and  mildew,  —  as  then 


UNDERCURRENTS.  313 

in  Italy.  But  from  Force  there  is  no  appeal,  except  to 
greater  Force,  for  the  gods  will  not  allow  that  an  ounce 
outweigh  a  pound,  either  in  the  physical  or  the  moral 
world :  they  demand  deeds,  not  intentions. 

The  Italians,  massing  what  power  they  could,  had  been 
overmatched.  Had  it  been  only  a  duel  between  them 
and  the  King  of  Naples,  or  the  King  of  Piedmont,  they 
would  have  had  an  easy  victory ;  but  it  was  more  than 
that,  —  it  was  a  duel  between  them  and  Austria,  and 
Austria  had  twenty  units  of  force,  better  drilled,  better 
armed,  and  better  captained,  to  every  one  of  theirs.  And 
behind  Austria  was  the  organized  Old  Regime  through- 
out Europe. 

Evidently,  in  order  that  Italy's  independence  should 
be  attained,  two  things  must  come  to  pass :  first,  a  major- 
ity of  the  Italians  themselves  must  will  it,  and  be  strong 
enough  to  use  it;  second,  Euro])e  must  consent  to  it. 
The  former  requisite,  which  must  precede,  could  be 
brought  about  only  by  patriotic  education;  the  latter 
depended  upon  a  happy  combination  of  the  ever-turning 
cogs  of  diplomacy.  Thus  far  we  have  watched  the  men 
of  action,  who  hoped  tlu-ough  conspira(!y  and  a  sudden 
show  of  force  to  free  Italy.  But  their  strength  was  inad- 
equate, and  they  failed  as  much  in  i)ersuading  many  of 
their  soberer  countrymen  to  join  them  as  in  ousting  their 
despotic  monarchs.  Now  we  have  to  examine  the  work 
of  tlie  tliinkers,  whose  influence,  tliough  indirect  and  less 
easily  gauged,  was  far-reaching  and  indispt-nsable. 

If  we  analyze  the  thought  of  the  eighteenth  century, 
we  sliall  find  that  it  liad  two  distinct  ])hases,  —  the  one 
skeptical  and  dt'structive,  the  otlicr  afhrniative  and  con- 
structive. Locke  and  Ilunic  liad  hurried  on  pliiloso])liy 
to  its  last  negation.  Voltaire  and  the  Kncyclopiedists 
had  peered  with  sarcastic  eyes  into  the  institutions,  beliefs, 
and  custcmisof  society,  and  liad  shown  them  to  be  abusive 
or  absurd.      Thosi;   ]>liilosopliic   ei'itics  spared  notiiing,  ■ — ■ 


314  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

revealed  religion,  the  pomp  and  ignorance  of  the  Church, 
the  absohitisui  of  kings,  the  insolence  and  injustice  of 
the  privileged  classes,  —  all  were  stripped  of  their  gala 
costume.  Feudalism  stood  there  naked  and  ridiculous. 
Satires  are  successful  only  when  the  evil  they  attack  has 
begun  to  wane :  chivalry  had  become  an  affectation  before 
Cervantes  wrote  "Don  Quixote; "  the  search  for  the  Phi- 
losopher's Stone  was  abandoned  by  all  but  quacks  when 
Ben  Jonson  wrote  "The  Alchemist;"  and  so  Feudalism 
must  have  been  far  gone  in  decay,  ere  even  Voltairean 
sarcasm  coidd  have  affected  it.  The  very  centre  of  that 
tottering  system,  Louis  XV  saw  that  it  was  doomed,  but 
he  consoled  himself  with  the  reflection  that  it  would  at 
least  endure  for  his  lifetime.  But  decay  presupposed  a 
new  growth ;  and  just  as  philosophy  and  satire  seemed  to 
have  destroyed  everything  wherein  mankind  trusted,  — 
leaving  the  world  barren  of  faith  in  God  and  reverence 
for  man,  a  waste  where  the  nettles  of  persiflage  flourished, 
but  neither  flowers  budded  nor  fruits  ripened,  —  there 
sprang  up  a  new  growth  of  regenerating  ideas.  In  philo- 
sophy this  new  spirit  embodied  itself  in  the  works  of  Kant. 
Briefly  stated,  his  message  was  this :  Each  individual  soul 
emanates  from  the  Universal  Soul;  whatever  hampers  its 
free  intercourse  with  and  expansion  into  the  Universal 
Soul,  weakens  it  and  leads  it  astray.  Crystallize  this 
doctrine  to  its  ultimate  meaning  and  you  have  the  single 
word  Liberty;  liberty  of  conscience  for  the  worshiper, 
liberty  of  person  for  the  citizen,  liberty  of  utterance  for 
the  thinker.  But  these  were  heresies  against  that  Feudal 
System  in  which  churches  interposed  their  creeds  between 
the  worshiper  and  God,  in  which  kings  might  do  their 
will  with  their  subjects,  and  in  which  inquisitors  and 
censors  decided  what  might  be  uttered. 

Kant  wrote  the  philosophy  of  this  new  era,  but  long 
before  his  thoughts  were  generally  understood,  the  Spirit 
of  Liberty  had  announced  itself  through   the  deeds   of 


UNDERCURRENTS.  315 

men;  and  first  of  all  in  government,  which,  touching 
society  in  its  daily  practical  life,  seemed  most  to  require 
readjustment.  Rousseau  felt  the  presence  of  the  new 
spirit  and  bore  witness  to  it  in  words  full  of  emotion;  the 
American  colonists  obeyed  it,  and  from  their  obedience 
was  born  a  mighty  republic ;  then  the  French,  made  de- 
lirious by  the  vision  of  freedom,  would  have  cut  them- 
selves off  forever  from  the  tyrannical  Past  by  one  stroke 
of  revolution.  The  modern  political  doctrines  of  civil 
equality  and  a  representative  franchise  were  thundered 
over  Europe  from  the  cannon's  mouth;  once  proclaimed, 
they  could  not  be  silenced. 

Less  noisy,  but  not  less  momentous,  was  the  change 
which  slowly  permeated  Religion.  The  ancient  arks  of 
faith,  launched  when  the  sea  was  placid,  were  now  water- 
logged and  barnacled  to  the  point  of  foundering ;  but  if 
any  one  suggested  that  to  save  the  ships  they  must  jetti- 
son the  cargo  of  dogmas  and  traditions,  each  stubborn 
conunander  replied,  "Throw  over  every  passenger  that 
talks  of  Reason."  So  the  wise  took  to  the  life-boats, 
leaving  that  fleet  of  orthodoxy  where  we  still  see  it,  the 
pennons  of  worn-out  creeds  dangling  at  the  masthead, 
the  sails  torn,  the  water  rising  in  spite  of  the  men  at  tlie 
pumps;  sodden,  battered  hulks,  they  are  driven  by  winds 
and  tides,  in  mutual  danger  of  collision.  A  strange  spec- 
tacle to  all ;  bewildering  and  terrible  to  any  who  believe 
that  when  those  leaky  vessels  sink,  as  sink  they  must, 
they  will  carry  to  the  bottom  with  them  that  without  which 
there  can  be  neitlier  ri'ligion  nor  virtue,  neither  hope  nor 
love  among  men!  As  if  s])iritual  truth  could  be  kept 
afloat  only  by  the  doctrinal  life-preservers  of  Calvin's  or 
Aquinas's  ])ateiit! 

In  Italy  the  new  Spirit  of  I^iberty  manifested  itself,  as 
we  have  seen,  in  the  fi-ustrated  revolutions;  it  also  vainly 
strove  to  ])enetrnte  the  thiek  crust  of  theology, — the 
Church  insisting  that  reason  meant  treason;   but  it  found 


316  THE   DAWN   OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

literature  more  plastic,  and  through  literature  it  began  to 
unfold  itself.  The  writers  who  were  the  mouthpiece  of 
this  new  influence  were  but  half  conscious  of  their  mis- 
sion ;  they  would  have  said  that  they  simply  followed  na- 
ture and  common  sense,  and  they  would  have  pointed  to 
the  recent  examples  which  Germany,  England,  and  France 
had  furnished,  as  evidence  that  they  were  in  first-rate 
company. 

The  struggle  between  Romanticism  and  Classicism 
which  was  the  result  of  the  clashing  of  the  Old  and  the 
New  Spirit  belongs,  in  so  far  as  it  was  a  literary  quarrel, 
to  the  history  of  literature ;  but  in  Italy  it  was  so  bound 
up  with  the  general  cause  of  Liberalism  that  it  needs  to 
be  mentioned  here.  The  Italian  mind  had  to  be  liberated 
from  the  tyranny  of  ancient  and  mechanical  literary  dog- 
mas, not  less  than  the  Italian  body  had  to  be  freed  from 
political  fetters.  The  conventionality  of  centuries  had 
reduced  Italian  literature  till  it  had  become  soulless,  but 
pompous,  like  the  popular  religion.  Even  the  most  con- 
spicuous of  its  recent  contributors,  Alfieri,  had  cast  his 
tragedies  in  the  old  classic  matrix,  which  was  like  the  bed 
of  Procrustes;  he  read  Shakespeare  often  with  admira- 
tion, he  tells  us,  but  not  without  "distinguishing  most 
clearly  all  of  Shakesjieare's  defects,"  which  he  took  care 
to  avoid  by  obeying  Aristotle's  formula  about  the  Unities. 

It  was  in  the  drama  that  the  intellectual  war  of  in- 
dependence was  first  waged.  Niccolini  and  Pellico  in 
their  early  plays  broke  away,  although  with  some  hesita- 
tion, from  rigid  Classicism;  then  Manzoni  brought  the 
strength  of  his  genius  to  the  cause  of  Romanticism.  The 
older  generation  of  writers,  led  by  the  facile  Monti,  fought 
bitterly.  They  abused,  they  ridiculed  the  innovators; 
they  indicted  them  as  heretics,  for  the  three  Unities  laid 
down  by  Aristotle  were  as  sacred  as  the  sacraments  in- 
vented by  the  Church.  To  put  in  a  plea  for  nature,  to 
cite  the  unexampled  richness  of  the  Elizabethan  drama, 


UNDERCURRENTS.  317 

to  appeal  to  the  recent  achievements  of  Schiller  and 
Goethe,  only  exasperated  the  upholders  of  the  antique 
school.  Nevertheless  the  Komanticists  gradually  pre- 
vailed. 

But  while  they  were  emancipated  in  the  form,  they 
were  still  hampered  in  the  substance  of  their  dramas.  In 
Italy,  as  in  France,  the  theatre  was  not  merely  a  place  in 
which  to  while  away  a  tedious  evening ;  the  stage  was  a 
platform  on  which  the  public  issues  of  the  hour  might  be 
artfully  presented ;  it  was  a  substitute  for  the  hustings, 
and  for  an  ungagged  press,  in  free  countries.  Therefore 
it  was  strictly  watched  by  the  censors  and  the  police.  The 
playwright,  if  he  had  a  patriotic  idea,  must  disguise  it 
so  that  it  might  escape  the  eyes  and  scissors  of  the  ex- 
purgators.  And  if  the  author  sometimes  outwitted  his 
critic  and  excited  an  audience  by  some  forbidden  senti- 
ment, more  frequently  the  censors  construed  his  harm- 
less lines  as  treason,  and  suppressed  them.  In  spite  of 
these  checks,  a  dramatic  literature  sprang  up,  and,  what 
is  more,  it  was  saturated  with  Liberalism.  Niccolini, 
Pellico,  Manzoni,  and  others,  while  keeping  within  the 
letter  of  the  law,  infused  their  patriotic  spirit  —  they 
could  not  help  infusing  it  —  through  all  their  plays. 
They  chose  episodes  in  the  past  history  of  Italy,  and  so 
treated  them  as  to  make  them  serve  as  indirect  commen- 
taries on  the  existing  j)olitical  situation,  and  especially  as 
strengtheners  of  tlie  budding  national  spirit.  Komanti- 
oism  everywhere  sought  tlie  unusual  and  the  picturescpie, 
by  which  it  miglit  express  that  new  passion  wliicli 
ri^belled  against  the  commonphice  and  prosiiic  by  which 
life  w:is  actually  hcnuned  in.  It  studied  history  with  a 
zest  hitherto  luiknown,  and  among  all  tlie  historic  periods 
the  mediaeval  was  its  favorite,  l)ec:uise  that  otYered  the 
striking  contrasts,  tlie  glow  of  legend,  the  large  ]>hiv  of 
passion,  and  the  riclniess  of  costume,  wlierewitli  th(>  im- 
agination could  work  unrestrained.      Hence  tlie  seeming 


318  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

paradox  that  a  literary  movement  which  marked  the  dis- 
solution of  Feudalism  should  have  devoted  itself  to  the 
glorification  of  the  feudal  world.  The  European  oli- 
garchs smiled  on  the  Romanticists  so  long  as  these,  by- 
poem  or  romance  or  history,  invested  with  fascination 
the  rugged  fighters  and  robber  barons  from  whom  the 
royalties  and  aristocracies  of  Europe  were  descended. 
Absolutism  had  nothing  to  fear  from  antiquarian  squab- 
bles over  the  origin  of  the  Italian  language  and  the 
propriety  of  using  any  word  which  had  not  the  sanction 
of  a  fifteenth  century  writer.  Lamartine  called  Italy 
"the  Land  of  the  Dead,"  and  if  the  purists  could  have 
had  their  way,  they  would  have  made  the  Italian  a  dead 
language.  But  Romanticism  wrought  its  own  cure;  a 
deeper  study  of  mediaeval  society,  by  dissipating  the  halo 
of  romance,  laid  bare  the  very  unpoetic  methods  by  which 
kings  had  come  to  assert  their  divine  right,  the  Church 
had  grasped  its  worldly  possession,  and  the  privileged 
classes  had  heaped  up  their  wealth. 

The  first  conscious  purpose  of  the  Italian  Romanticists, 
however,  was  to  recall  to  their  countrymen  great  scenes 
and  striking  personages  from  the  past  of  Italy,  with  the 
inevitable  result  of  stimulating  the  spirit  of  nationality. 
Indirectly,  their  dramas  served,  as  I  have  said,  as  politi- 
cal allegories.  Niccolini  (1782-1861)  began  his  career 
with  the  Classicists,  and  after  their  fashion  he  remodeled 
the  stories  of  "Medea,"  of  "Agamemnon,"  of  the  "Seven 
at  Thebes,"  and  of  "Polyxena; "  but,  while  he  held  aloof 
from  the  literary  quarrel  which  soon  raged,  he  became  in 
practice  a  Romanticist,  as  in  politics  he  was  a  Republi- 
can. In  his  later  and  stronger  tragedies,  "Antonio  Fos- 
carini,"  "John  of  Procida,"  and  "Arnold  of  Brescia,"  he 
was  thoroughly  Italian,  using  the  themes  which  liis  his- 
torical study  supplied  him  as  texts  by  which  to  illustrate 
the  iniquity  of  church  and  tyrants,  and  the  surpassing 
beauty   of  patriotism   and  liberty;   he  preached   so  elo- 


UNDERCURRENTS.  319 

quently  that  even  in  Tuscany  the  censors  frowned  upon 
his  plays.  Silvio  Pellico  (1789-1854),  in  genius  less 
robust,  became  through  misfortune  more  famous  than 
Niccolini,  and  he  had  already  won  reputation  by  his  ro- 
mantic play,  "Francesca  da  Rimini,"  before  he  was  seized 
by  the  Austrians  and  immured  in  the  prison  of  Spielberg. 
But  greater  than  these,  and  greater  than  any  other  con- 
temjwi-ary  Italian  author,  was  Alexander  Manzoni  (1785- 
1873),  one  of  the  few  masters  in  the  world-literature  of 
the  nineteenth  century. 

At  first  sight  Manzoni 's  literary  product  seems  singu- 
larly small ;  the  best  —  a  few  lyrics,  two  dramas,  and  a 
romance  —  is  contained  in  two  small  volumes.  Compare 
that  with  the  quantity  produced  by  Scott,  Dickens, 
Thackeray,  and  George  Eliot;  and  by  Balzac,  Sand,  and 
Hugo;  or  with  the  complete  editions  of  the  works  of  the 
foremost  poets  who  were  his  contemporaries,  and  you  per- 
ceive that  Manzoni,  of  all  the  men  of  genius  in  our  volu- 
ble and  diffuse  century  was  the  most  reticent.  In  his 
restraint,  compactness,  and  sense  of  proportion,  he  resem- 
bled tlie  Greeks,  but  in  spirit  he  was  a  modern,  and  in 
his  method  a  Komanticist.  lie  was  perha])s  the  only 
man  of  first-rate  ability  in  his  time  who  believed  devoutly 
the  dogmas  of  the  Catholic  Chureli,  yet  his  belief  did  not 
prevent  him  from  approving  the  abolition  of  the  temporal 
Papacy.  lie  was  never  a  conspirator,  never  any  other 
than  the  modest,  retiring,  but  steadfast  poet;  and  yet  few 
of  the  men  of  action  contributed  so  largely  as  lu'  to  the 
liberation  of  Italy.  What  was  the  secret  of  his  power 
amid  these  apparent  contradictions?  It  was  his  char- 
acter: he  represented  that  intelligence  and  integrity, 
that  earnestness  not  to  be  misled  l»y  fitful  passions,  tliat 
])atriotie  sclf-coutrol  and  self-abnegation,  witliout  whieli 
liberty,  whether  of  tlie  indivichial  or  of  the  State,  is  a 
dangerous  gift.  Thougli  he  snl)mitted  to  Austrian  ride 
in  liis  native  Lombardy,  and  though  Austrian  spies  could 


320  THE   DAWN   OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

never  find  cause  for  prosecuting  him,  he  never  suppressed 
an  opinion  through  fear  or  self-interest,  and  there  was 
none  whose  Italianism  was  more  widely  known.  A  little 
while  ago  Monti,  the  turncoat  and  sycophant,  stood  at 
the  head  of  Italian  letters :  from  him  to  Manzoni,  what  a 
contrast,  what  an  advance !  The  sons  of  fathers  who  had 
excused  Monti's  baseness  for  the  sake  of  his  brilliance, 
had  a  master  whose  life  was  not  less  venerable  than  his 
works  were  noble. 

Manzoni  expressed  his  piety  in  a  series  of  "Sacred 
Hymns  "  which  are  probably  as  excellent  as  any  modern 
paraphrase  can  be  of  the  simple  and  beautiful  narrative  in 
the  Evangelists  of  Christ's  birth,  passion,  and  resurrec- 
tion. He  then  gave  wider  scope  to  his  imagination  in 
two  tragedies,  "  Adelchi,"  and  "II  Carmagnola,"  in  which 
he  flung  down  a  challenge  to  the  Classicists,  and  hid 
many  a  patriotic  appeal.  The  choruses  in  those  dramas, 
and  above  all  the  splendid  "Ode  on  the  Death  of  Na- 
poleon," showed  the  high  lyric  quality,  the  fervor,  and 
clearness,  of  Manzoni's  poetic  genius;  but  it  was  by  his 
romance,  "The  Betrothed,"  that  he  won  instant  pop- 
ularity, captivating  alike  the  humblest  reader  and  the 
most  fastidious  critic.  Here  at  last  was  a  genuine  book, 
woven  of  the  simplest  elemental  passions.  Mark  with 
what  naturalness  the  love-story  of  a  peasant  youth  and 
girl  comes  to  concern  far  other  than  peasants,  till  at  last 
cardinal  Borromeo  himself  is  touched  by  it,  so  that  the 
whole  social  fabric  is  unfolded,  with  its  interrelation  of 
class  with  class,  and  its  varied  but  j^erpetually  interesting 
human  colors.  Mark  the  humor  which,  like  gold  thread 
shot  through  damask,  plays  over  it  from  end  to  end. 
Mark  the  exquisite  precision,  the  unerring  lifelikeness, 
pervaded  everywhere  by  a  rich,  poetic  atmosphere,  like 
the  shores  of  Lake  Como  itself.  This  is  the  true  realism, 
because  it  is  the  ideal.  Only  in  those  passages  where, 
as  Goethe  said,  Manzoni  "throws  off  the  poet's  mantle 


UNDERCURRENTS.  321 

and  stands  as  a  naked  historian,"  does  our  interest 
slacken ;  and  yet,  make  what  deductions  we  will  for  this 
defect,  "The  Betrothed"  remains  the  most  beautiful  of 
romances. 

Not  as  a  literary  masterpiece,  however,  does  this  work 
of  Manzoni's  concern  us,  so  much  as  a  landmark  in  the 
progress  of  Italian  regeneration.  It  gave  the  Italians  an 
object  worthy  of  their  admiration ;  it  settled  forever  that 
pedantic  question  as  to  what  words  a  writer  might  use; 
deeper  still,  it  was  an  indictment  of  foreign  tyranny, 
and  of  the  oppression  of  the  people  by  the  nobles.  The 
tyrants  in  the  story  were  Spaniards,  but  every  Italian  as 
he  read  substituted  the  word  Austrian  for  Spa?iiard,  and 
the  book  became  a  Bible  of  patriotism.  Its  influence, 
like  the  personal  influence  of  Manzoni  himself,  was  thus 
very  wide  and  permanent,  but  so  quiet  and  reasonable 
and  pervasive  that  we  have  no  means  of  measuring  it 
accurately.  All  that  we  can  say  is  that  from  about  the 
year  1825  Manzoni  stood  among  his  countrymen  as  the 
embodiment  of  a  pure  and  dignified  patriotism,  which 
based  its  hopes  on  no  mere  outward  political  upheaval, 
but  on  moral  regenei-ation. 

Fame,  and  the  love  of  multitudes  and  their  trust,  — 
which  are  better  than  fame,  —  came  to  jSIanzoni  early  in 
his  career,  and  increased  throughout  his  long  life;  ])aiu- 
fully  different  was  the  fate  of  .James  Leopardi  (1798- 
1837),  the  only  other  Italian  poet  of  tliis  century  whose 
genius,  transcending  tlu*  limits  of  his  time  and  country, 
has  an  international  significance  and  bids  fair  to  comuKuid 
the  attention  of  generations  yet  unborn.  The  story  of  bis 
life,  aside  from  the  (juality  of  his  work,  would  suflice  to 
mak(;  him  one  of  the  most  interestiug  figures  in  modern 
literary  liistory.  I  lis  very  existence  was  a  tragedy  so 
cruel  and  so  inexplicabli'  that  we  can  only  wonder  and 
pity  and  be  silent:  for  in  liliu  a  genius  of  all  but  the 
highest  eai)aeity  was  united  to  a  feeble  frame,  a  sickly 


322  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

spine,  and  tattered  nerves,  as  if  Destiny,  in  a  sardonic 
mood,  sought  entertainment  in  witnessing  the  unequal 
combat  between  this  soiil  and  body.  Nor  was  this  all : 
Leopardi's  lot  fell  to  be  born  in  the  torpid,  cheerless 
Adriatic  town  of  Recanati,  among  a  bigoted  and  uncon- 
genial people.  And  yet,  though  thus  stinted  in  health 
and  sympathy,  and  though  harassed  by  poverty,  he  raised 
himself  by  the  might  of  his  intellect  to  one  of  the 
loftiest  reputations  of  his  epoch.  At  an  age  when 
other  boys  had  not  left  their  marbles  and  kites  he  was 
mastering  Hebrew,  Greek,  and  Latin ;  at  fourteen  he  was 
proficient,  probably  none  more  so  in  Italy,  in  patristic 
lore ;  at  eighteen  he  had  written  two  canzoni  which  had 
had  no  peers  since  Petrarch  wrote;  and  then,  through 
twenty  years  of  physical  anguish,  sometimes  nearly  blind 
for  months,  or  plunged  in  nervous  torments,  he  produced 
works,  whether  in  poetry  or  in  prose,  which  have  long 
been  esteemed  classics  by  his  countrymen,  and  which,  so 
profoundly  do  they  express  one  of  the  dominant  charac- 
teristics of  human  nature,  have  merited  the  attention  of 
thinkers  everywhere. 

For  Leopardi  represents  that  spectre  of  pessimism 
which  continually  dogs  the  footsteps  of  humanity,  and  at 
one  time  or  another  whispers  its  terrific  questions  to 
every  earnest  soul.  He  cannot,  like  the  Stoic,  satisfy 
himseK  by  saying,  "Thovigh  Fate  be  grim,  I  can  bear  it:  " 
for  to  what  end  would  you  resist  for  a  little  hour  the 
omnipotent  monster?  He  cannot,  like  the  Mystic,  trust 
that,  in  spite  of  the  evils  of  life  on  earth,  there  will  be 
heaven  hereafter :  for  he  would  ask  how  an  alleged  benef- 
icent Creator  could  look  unmoved  vipon  such  sufferings 
as  mortals  endure  between  the  dawn  and  twilight  of  a 
single  day.  Leopardi  is  honest  with  himself :  he  will  not 
call  evil  good;  he  does  not,  — as  so  many  do  when  they 
feel  the  svipports  of  dogma  slipping  away,  —  he  does  not 
try  to  convince  himself  that  they  are  still  firm ;  he  takes 


UNDEECUBRENT8.  323 

no  moral  opiates,  but  dares  to  know  the  worst,  let  the 
pain  be  >yhat  it  may.  Religion,  love,  hope,  progress,  pa- 
triotism, seem  to  him  but  delusions,  —  iridescent  films 
hung  over  the  mouth  of  the  abyss,  —  to  prevent  mankind 
from  realizing  too  early  the  vanity  and  nothingness  from 
which  they  and  all  things  spring  and  to  which  all  return. 
And  yet  Leopardi's  despair  is  not  selfish,  like  that  of  the 
cynic ;  he  may  indulge  in  sarcasm  when  he  contrasts  the 
arrogance  of  some  men  with  the  insignificance  of  their 
power  as  compared  to  the  universe  which  grinds  them, 
but  he  feels  even  more  deeply  the  pity,  the  pathos  of  it 
aU,  that  creatures  so  frail  should  be  teased  by  desires  so 
noble.  "Ennui,"  he  says,  "is  in  some  fashion  the  most 
sublime  of  human  sentiments.  Not  that  I  believe  that 
from  the  examination  of  this  sentiment  those  consequences 
are  begotten  which  many  i)hilosophers  thought  were  de- 
ducible  from  it;  but,  nevertheless,  the  impossibility  of 
being  satisfied  by  anything  on  earth,  or,  so  to  S2)eak,  by 
the  earth  entire ;  to  consider  the  measureless  amplitude  of 
s])ace,  the  number  and  wonderful  magnitude  of  worlds, 
and  to  find  that  all  is  little  and  petty  compared  with  the 
capacity  of  the  mind  itself;  to  imagine  the  number  of 
worlds  as  infinite  and  the  infinite  universe,  and  to  fed 
that  our  mind  and  our  desire  would  be  still  larger  tlian 
such  a  universe;  and  forever  to  accuse  things  of  insuffi- 
ciency and  nullity,  and  to  suffer  a  loss  and  void,  and 
therefore  enniii,  seems  to  me  th(»  chief  sign  of  grandeur 
and  nobility  that  can  be  seen  in  liuman  nature.  For 
ennui  is  little  known  to  men  of  no  worth,  and  very  little 
or  not  at  all  to  the  other  animals."  ^ 

It  is  because  Leopardi  uttered  with  force  and  beauty 
and  with  inifaltering  courage  the  last  secrets  of  despair, 
that  he  has  come  to  be  regarded  as  one  of  the  signifi- 
cantly tyi)ieal  ]K)ets  of  the  century.  Psychologists  may 
perhaps  be  able  to  deteniiiiie  how  far  his  pessimism  was 

'    I'l  iisii  /  /,  Ixviii. 


824  THE   DAWN  OF   ITALIAN  INDEPENDENCE. 

due  to  his  diseased  body;  he  himself  believed  that  his 
physical  infirmities  had  not  warped  his  mind.  .  "Before 
dying,"  he  wrote  to  a  friend,  "I  am  going  to  protest 
against  this  invention  of  feebleness  and  vidgarity,  and  to 
beg  my  readers  to  set  about  destroying  my  observations 
and  reasoning,  rather  than  to  accuse  my  maladies."^ 
The  enigma  of  so  inadequate  a  constitution  as  Leopardi's 
should  make  even  the  most  buoyant  optimists  sober.  His 
poetry,  like  impassioned  mournful  music,  does  not  lift  us 
by  inspiring  hope,  but  soothes  us  by  giving  utterance  to 
the  regrets  and  sorrows  which,  if  unuttered,  wovdd  stifle 
the  heart.  And  as  there  will  always  be  death  and  part- 
ings, and  the  wistfid  looking  back  to  vanished  youth, 
Leopardi's  lyrics  might  still  be  read  long  after  the  golden 
age  of  Utopia  had  transformed  the  earth,  and  optimism 
were  the  only  philosophy. 

Leopardi's  direct  influence  on  the  Italian  cause  was 
wrought  by  the  patriotic  odes  written  in  his  youth,  when 
he  felt  bitterly  the  degradation  of  his  country,  and  before 
he  had  formulated  his  philosophy  of  despair.  His  work 
was  never  popular  in  his  lifetime,  but  it  moved  a  small 
circle  of  the  elect  by  whom  it  was  transmitted  to  the 
many.  The  Italians,  who  were  gradually  being  vitalized 
by  a  great  idea,  were  thereby  rising  above  pessimism, 
and  they  drew  from  Leopardi  an  incentive  for  improving 
rather  than  for  accepting  their  wretched  lot.  It  is  char- 
acteristic of  the  conflicting  aspects  of  our  epoch,  that 
Manzoni  and  Leopardi  should  represent  Italy  in  the  mod- 
ern world-literature.  Like  two  ships  borne  in  opposite 
directions  by  the  same  trade -wind,  one  had  a  smooth 
voyage,  and  cast  anchor  in  a  pleasant  haven ;  the  other, 
buffeted  and  distressed,  sailed  along  dangerous  shores, 
and  disappeared  amid  Antarctic  ice  and  fog. 

These  are  the  chief  names  in  that  post-Napoleonic  lit- 
erature in  which  Eomanticism  was  expressing  itself  and 
1  Letter  to  De  Sinner,  May  24,  1832. 


UNDERCURRENTS.  325 

the  new  ideas  of  liberty  in  Italy.  Of  many  other  men, 
some  of  whom  enjoyed  a  wide  contemporary  reputation, 
and  all  of  whom  were  swayed  by  a  similar  purpose,  it  is 
not  necessary  to  give  a  detailed  account.  The  short- 
lived Conciliatore  newspaper  at  Milan,  the  more  fortu- 
nate Antologia  at  Florence,  the  stirring  verse  of  Berchet, 
the  revived  study  of  Dante, ^  and  of  the  history  of  Italy 
during  the  Middle  Age  and  the  Renaissance,  —  all  these 
were  symptoms  of  the  intellectual  awakening,  and  evidence 
that  there  was  gathering  a  body  of  temperate  patriotic 
men  who  by  example  and  precept  should  prepare  their 
country  to  deserve  freedom.  They  held  aloof  from  plots; 
they  seemed  lukewarm  to  the  men  of  action ;  but  they  in- 
sisted upon  character  and  intelligence  as  prerequisites 
without  which  national  unity  could  not  be  permanent  nor 
independence  beneficial ;  and  their  influence,  though  grad- 
ual and  indirect,  went  far  and  sank  deep. 

These  being  some  of  the  forces  active  at  home,  what 
was  the  attitude  abroad?  How  was  foreign  public  opin- 
ion disposed  towards  the  resurrection  of  Italy?  We  have 
seen  how,  since  the  Congress  of  Vienna,  foreign  nations 
treated  the  desires  of  Italians;  but  we  must  distingiiish 
between  the  diplomatic  interference  and  official  injustice 
of  governments,  and  tlie  attitude  of  individual  foreigners. 
The  oligarchic  cabal  which,  under  Metternich,  had  striven 
to  bind  tyranny  upon  Europe,  could  not  wholly  stifle  the 
ex])ression  of  Liberal  thoughts.  Byron's  elemental  vigor, 
for  instance,  had  swei)t  his  ])()enis  over  the  world,  and 
they  carried  with  them  a  passionate  ])lca  for  down-trodden 
Greece  and  Italy.  At  a  time  when  Europe  had  sunk 
back  into  feudal  reaction,  he  boldly  ])rotcstcd  that  neither 
Holy  Alliances  nor  Mcttcrniclis  nor  Castlcreaghs  could 
postpone  forever  the  day  (»f  reckoning  l)ctween  the  gov- 

^  In  the  fifteenth  century  1")  editions  of  the  Divine  Comalfi  were  issued  ; 
in  the  sixteei'th,  42;  in  the  seventecntli.  4  ;  in  the  eij,'hteenth,  40;  in  tlio 
first  lialf  of  tlio  nineteentli  more  tlian  I.'jU  editions.  See  preface  to  Dr. 
("arlyle's  tranulutiun  of  the  Inftrno. 


326  THE   DAWN   OF   ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

emors  and  the  governed,  and  that  no  treaty  nor  diplo- 
matist had  the  right  to  perpetuate  the  slavery  of  a  people. 
Many  Englishmen  shared  Byron's  enthusiasm,  though 
with  reservations.  They  blushed  in  private  to  think  that 
England,  which  had  been  for  generations  the  abode  of 
liberty,  was  now  officially  leagued  with  Continental  des- 
pots in  oppressing  races  which  asked  for  seK-government ; 
they  blushed  at  the  recollection  of  the  perfidy  by  which 
English  agents  had,  in  1814,  deceived  the  Italians;  but 
while  they  sympathized  in  the  abstract,  they  were  not 
prepared  to  give  material  aid.  They  were  tired  of  wars 
abroad,  for  which  they  were  now  paying  the  cost  in  in- 
creased taxation ;  they  were  involved  at  home  in  a  great 
political  struggle,  the  beginning  of  the  end  of  aristocratic 
domination;  they  were  just  entering  on  that  vast  com- 
mercial expansion  which  threatened  to  choke  spirituality 
through  a  surfeit  of  gold.  At  best,  therefore,  the  Ital- 
ians could  as  yet  hope  for  no  more  than  passive  sympathy 
from  the  more  kindly-disposed  English.  The  average 
Briton  —  the  typical  John  Bull,  with  his  mixture  of  cant 
and  Philistinism,  of  worldly  wisdom  and  shopkeeper's 
integrity  —  was  too  insular  to  understand,  and  conse- 
quently to  pity,  a  race  so  different  from  his  own.  He  was 
reticent  and  gTuff,  they  were  emotional;  he  gloried  in  his 
strength  and  wealth,  they  were  weak  and  poor ;  he  was 
practical,  they,  he  supposed,  were  visionary.  He  had 
come  to  look  upon  them  as  good  pastry-cooks  and  dan- 
cing masters,  a  degenerate  race  which  had  ages  ago  written 
poetry  that  his  daughters  read,  and  had  painted  pictures 
which  he  was  dragged  to  see  when  he  made  the  grand 
tour.  In  Italy,  he  admitted,  the  beggars  eating  their 
macaroni  were  picturesque  but  dirty;  in  London,  the 
Italian  opera-singers  sang  divinely,  but  they  Avere  immoral 
and  expensive.  What  business  had  a  people  whose  mis- 
sion it  was  to  go  round  the  world  with  a  barrel-organ  and 
a  monkey  to  talk  about  self-government  ?     If  they  wanted 


UNDERCURRENTS.  327 

their  freedom,  why  did  they  not  fight  for  it,  nay,  why 
had  they  ever  lost  it,  unless  they  were  unworthy  of  being 
free?  John  Bull  has  always  been  quick  to  discern  the 
retributive  hand  of  God  in  the  afflictions  of  his  neighbors, 
felt  it  his  duty  to  say,  like  Bildad  the  Shuhite,  "  If  thou 
wert  pure  and  upright,  surely  now  He  would  awake  for 
thee,  and  make  the  habitation  of  thy  righteousness  pros- 
perous." Therefore,  if  Italy  was  wretched  as  a  punish- 
ment for  her  past  sins,  might  it  not  be  meddling  with  the 
decrees  of  Providence  to  interfere  in  her  behalf?  More- 
over, John  Bull,  impregnable  in  his  "sea-girt  isle,"  took 
not  into  account  the  geographical  conditions  which  ex- 
posed other  countries  to  foreign  conquest.  His  hereditary 
hatred  of  papists  had  become  an  instinct;  but  these  Ital- 
ians, were  they  not  papist  idolaters?  He  despised  civil 
broils  and  dreaded  violence,  or  whatever  smacked  of  Ja- 
cobinism, for  Jacobinism  had  begotten  a  Napoleon ;  who 
could  be  sure  that  the  Italian  agitators,  for  all  their  glib 
talk  of  liberty,  were  not  another  brood  of  Jacobins  ?  Still, 
he  had  an  instinctive  love  of  fair  play,  and  if  he  could  be 
brought  to  understand  that  Italy  was  really  bent  on  mak- 
ing a  fight  against  great  odds,  he  might  possibly  see  to  it 
that  her  antagonist  should  take  no  mean  advantage,  — 
always  provided  British  commercial  interests  were  not 
involved  in  the  dispute. 

With  Britisli  i)ublic  opinion  at  this  stage,  there  came 
a  change  in  political  leadership  which  aft'ected  tlie  rcda- 
tions  of  Great  Britain  with  the  Allied  Powers.  Castle- 
rcagli  killed  himself  in  a  fit  of  melancholy,  and  Canning 
siicce(!ded  him  as  Foreign  Minister.  Canning  belonged 
to  that  noble  order  of  English  statesmen  who,  because 
they  have  had  faith  in  liberty,  have  made  tlie  Anglo-Saxon 
race  the  pioneer  of  liberty  throughout  the  modern  world. 
He  cut  adrift  fi'om  Castlerengh's  sci'vile  obedience  to  Met- 
tei-nich:  he  encouraged  the  Greeks  in  tlieir  struggle  with 
the  Turks;  by  recognizing  the  South  American  rei)ublics 


328  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

which  had  freed  themselves  through  the  heroism  of  Boli- 
var and  other  patriots,  he  frustrated  the  purpose  of  the 
Continental  despots  to  restore  the  Spanish  tyranny  in 
South  America.  Although  he  could  not  hinder  the  expe- 
dition of  the  French  Bourbons  into  Spain,  he  gave  warn- 
ing that  England  disapproved  the  Metternichian  policy 
of  interfering  in  the  domestic  aifairs  of  small  States,  and 
he  hinted  in  a  memorable  speech,  that  if  such  encroach- 
ments were  pushed,  England  would  ally  herself  with  the 
revolutionary  elements  on  the  Continent,  and  see  justice 
done.^  Probably,  had  a  crisis  arisen,  even  Canning 
would  have  been  unable  to  urge  the  British  nation  to  en- 
gage in  a  general  war  for  the  sake  of  peoples  that  were 
not  large  buyers  of  British  manufactures;  nevertheless, 
his  achievement  in  withdrawing  England  from  the  influ- 
ence of  the  Holy  Alliance,  and  in  checking  Metternich, 
must  not  be  too  lightly  rated.  He  died  prematurely,  but 
not  before  he  had  given  back  to  his  country  her  honorable 
reputation  as  friend  of  the  oppressed,  and  had  banished 
from  the  Foreign  Office  the  precedent  by  which  a  British 
minister  acted  as  the  menial  of  a  Continental  chancellor. 

In  France  the  eddies  and  counter-currents  of  politics 
were  more  perplexing.  It  seemed  as  if  Louis  XVIII  and 
Charles  X  were  prospering  in  their  restoration  of  Bour- 
bonism.  Their  policy  had  these  two  ends :  to  stamp  out 
Liberalism  at  home,  and  to  recover  that  ascendency  abroad 
which  France  had  lost  at  Waterloo.  The  French  minis- 
ters respected  the  Holy  Alliance  so  far  as  it  helped  the 
first  aim;  but  where  it  tended  to  keep  France  in  a  subor- 
dinate position,  they  wished  to  evade  it,  and  secretly 
reached  out  for  new  diplomatic  combinations.  French- 
men, ever  thirsty  for  glory,  must  be  slaked  by  such  in- 
sipid draughts  as  the  Spanish  campaign  and  the  Algerian 
expedition.      In  Italy  they  intrigued  to  undermine  Aus- 

^  Speech  delivered  Dee.  12, 1826.    See  Stapleton :  Political  Life  of  George 
Canning  (London,  1831),  iii,  223, 


UNDERCURRENTS.  329 

tria's  predominance,  and  to  hasten  the  time  when  France 
might  openly  contest  with  Austria  the  enjoyment  of  Ital- 
ian spoils.  The  general  course  of  France  during  these 
years  was  therefore  away  from  the  Holy  Alliance  and 
towards  England,  so  that  there  slowly  grew  up  a  new 
division  of  the  Great  Powers,  —  a  division  not  sanctioned 
by  treaty  but  tacitly  recognized,  in  which  the  "Western 
Powers  "  (France  and  England)  represented  the  progres- 
sive tendency,  and  the  "Northern  Powers"  (Austria, 
Prussia,  and  Russia)  represented  the  stationaiy  or  retro- 
grade tendency  of  the  century.  But  officially,  between 
1815  and  1830,  France  seemed  the  enemy  of  every  Lib- 
eral hope. 

It  was  in  unofficial  France,  among  the  professed  Repub- 
licans and  the  discontented  Imperialists,  that  the  dee})er 
purposes  of  the  nation  were  germinating.  There,  con- 
spiracies and  revolutionary  preparations  gave  the  lie  to 
the  superficial  firmness  of  Bourbonism,  which  was  but  as 
a  thin  crust  hardened  over  a  stream  of  molten  lava.  The 
French  Liberals  sympathized  with  the  Italians  as  com- 
rades in  misfortune,  and  French  writers  echoed  that 
romantic  sentiment  towards  afflicted  Italy  that  Byron  had 
uttered  with  a  force  unknown  to  French  poetry.  Nor 
did  officitd  France  lack  the  means  of  learning  the  truth 
about  those  Italian  agitations  that  were  stigmatized  by 
Mctternich  and  the  clicjue  of  despots  as  the  efforts  of 
anarchists  to  destroy  civilization.  Cliateaubriand,  then 
ambassador  at  Rome,  gave  the  following  clear  statonient 
concerning  Italy,  in  1829,  to  a  member  of  the  French 
Cabinet:  "Read  with  caution  wluit  maybe  sent  to  you 
from  Naj)les,  and  elsewhere.  They  deem  conspiracy  the 
universal  discontent,  the  fruit  of  the  times,  the  clash  of 
the  old  with  the  new  society,  of  decre])it  institutions 
against  the  voung  generations,  the  confronting  of  that 
which  is  with  that  which  niiuht  be.  The  great  s]H'ctacle 
of   France, — })o\vcrful,   peaceful,    hap})y, — striking  the 


330  THE   DAWN   OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

eyes  of  nations  which  have  remained,  or  fallen  back, 
under  the  yoke,  excites  laments  and  nourishes  hopes. 
Kepresentative  governments  and  absolute  governments 
cannot  endure  together:  perforce  one  or  the  other  must 
perish,  and  the  political  system  become  everywhere  uni- 
form. Can  custom-house  lines  any  longer  separate  lib- 
erty from  servitude?  Or  a  man  be  executed  on  this  side 
of  a  brook  for  principles  which  are  reputed  sacred  on  the 
other?  This,  and  this  alone,  is  conspiracy  in  Italy,  that 
in  this  sense  may  be  called  French.  But  from  the  day 
when  she  shall  enter  upon  the  enjoyment  of  rights  pointed 
out  to  her  by  her  intelligence  and  brought  by  the  times, 
she  will  be  tranquil  and  purely  Italian.  It  is  not  obscure 
Carbonari,  goaded  on  by  the  manceuvres  of  the  police 
and  hanged  without  mercy,  that  will  overturn  this  coun- 
try. Governments  are  given  very  false  ideas  about  the 
true  state  of  the  world;  they  are  hindered  from  doing 
what  they  should  for  their  own  safety,  by  being  induced 
to  regard  the  effect  of  a  permanent  and  general  cause  as 
the  conspiracy  of  a  few  Jacobins.  These  conditions 
obtain  throughout  Italy ;  but  each  State,  besides  the  com- 
mon troubles,  is  tormented  by  some  special  malady: 
Piedmont,  the  prey  of  a  fanatical  faction ;  the  Milanese, 
devoured  by  the  Austrians;  the  Papal  domain,  under- 
mined by  a  bad  financial  administration,  —  for  the  im- 
posts amount  to  nearly  fifty  millions,  and  do  not  leave  to 
the  proprietor  one  per  cent,  of  his  revenue ;  the  custom 
house  produces  almost  nothing,  and  smuggling  is  general. 
The  Prince  of  Modena,  in  his  duchy,  —  a  spot  where 
ancient  abuses  have  full  play,  —  sets  up  storehouses  for 
contraband  goods,  which  he  introduces  into  the  Legation 
of  Bologna  by  night.  The  government  of  the  Two  Sicilies 
has  fallen  into  the  lowest  depths  of  contempt,  —  the  Court, 
living  amid  its  guards,  ever  under  the  incubus  of  fear, 
offering  no  other  spectacle  than  ruinously  expensive  hunt- 
ing-parties  and  executions,   makes    monarchy  more  and 


UNDERCURRENTS.  831 

more  detestable  in  the  eyes  of  the  people,  and  the  weak- 
ness of  the  government  is  protected  only  by  the  baseness 
of  the  multitude.  The  lack  of  military  qualities  will  pro- 
long Italy's  agony.  Bonaparte  had  not  time  to  revive 
this  virtue ;  the  habits  of  an  indolent  life  and  the  entice- 
ments of  the  climate  contribute  to  take  from  the  Italians 
of  the  South  the  desire  to  rouse  themselves  for  improve- 
ment. The  feuds  bred  by  territorial  divisions  increase 
the  difficulties  of  the  internal  movements;  but  if  some 
impulse  should  come  from  outside,  or  if  any  prince  among 
the  Alps  should  grant  a  statute  to  his  sul)jects,  there 
would  ensue  a  revolution,  for  which  everything  is  ripe. 
More  fortunate  than  we,  and  taught  by  our  experience, 
these  peoples  will  be  sparing  of  crimes,  of  which  we  were 
so  lavish."  ^ 

We  see  from  this  that  official  France  had  cognizance  of 
the  facts :  individually  some  of  her  politicians  may  have 
felt  as  Chateaiibriand  felt;  but  officially  she  gave  Italy 
no  encouragement.  And  yet,  Italians  looked  to  France 
for  guidance;  they  waited  for  her  to  take  the  initia- 
tive. Since  1789  Continental  Euro])e  had  come  to  have 
a  superstitious  belief  that  France  alone  could  give  the 
signal  for  a  successful  political  movement.  The  collapse 
of  the  revolutions  in  Naples  and  Piedmont  had  intro- 
duced a  new  element  in  Italian  conspiracies:  for  the 
thousands  of  Liberals  who  then  fled,  or  were  banished 
from  Itiily,  settled  abroad  and  dedicated  tlieir  lives  to  the 
red(!mption  of  their  country.  In  Switzerland,  at  Mar- 
seilles, at  Paris,  at  Brussels,  at  London,  tliey  liad  their 
refuges,  and  formed  relations  with  tlie  exiles  and  tlie  male- 
contents  of  other  lands.  So  much  of  their  time  as  was 
not  taken  up  with  bread-winning,  they  gave  to  discussi(m 
of  the  Past  and  to  plotting  for  the  Future.  Through 
emissaries  and  clandestine  correspondence  tliey  connnu- 
nicatcd  with  the  sects  at  liome,  urging  them  to  be  bold, 

*  Mumiiri  s  <l' Outrr-I  (imlH\  \,  ll'I-li. 


332  THE   DAWN    OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

promising  them  aid,  chiding  them  for  half-heartedness, 
and  always  holding  out  to  them  the  prospect  of  speedy 
and  easy  success.  They  had  suffered  so  much,  that  they 
were  impatient  at  the  hesitation  of  their  fellow-country- 
men. They  deemed  prudence  cowardice;  and  in  their 
homesick  zeal  they  both  exaggerated  the  chances  of  vic- 
tory and  underrated  the  probability  of  defeat.  They 
were  the  victims  of  those  delusions  which  tease  all  who 
look  backward  upon  failure ;  it  seemed  to  them  that  but 
for  this  trifle,  or  that  accident,  the  judgment  of  Fate 
would  have  been  reversed,  and  their  cause  would  have 
prospered.  So  they  were  eager  to  make  another  trial, 
confident  that  they  could  not  repeat  their  previous  blun- 
ders. 

Sad  was  the  lot  of  the  political  exile,  —  sad,  and  calcu- 
lated to  unfit  the  sanest  intellect  for  dealing  with  his 
country's  affairs.  He  lived  among  strangers,  he  tasted 
the  salt  bread  of  strangers,  and  felt  that  their  charity  was 
but  sufferance.  Every  child  he  met  reminded  him  of  his 
children,  who  were  growing  up  without  his  care,  perhaps 
forgetfid  of  him  or  corrupted  by  the  men  he  hated.  In 
his  sorrow  he  thought  of  his  parents  sorrowing  for  him ; 
in  his  loneliness  he  felt  again  the  sweet  embraces  of  his 
wife,  and  wept  at  the  cruel  vividness  of  his  imagination. 
His  heart  ached  for  news  that  never  came  from  friends 
shut  up  in  prison.  As  he  groped  through  the  fogs  of 
London,  he  thought  of  the  sapphire  skies  of  Naples;  as 
he  shivered  in  a  foreign  garret,  he  remembered  the  warm 
South  and  his  youth.  His  existence  was  a  living  death, 
in  which  all  the  sweetness  and  joy  of  his  past  life  were 
become  as  wormwood  to  his  soul.  When  Death  takes 
our  beloved  from  us,  we  submit  as  best  we  may,  for  we 
cannot  strike  at  Death ;  the  exile  had  to  bear  not  only 
the  pangs  of  bereavement,  but  also  the  thought  that  he 
was  the  victim  of  unjust  men  and  not  of  the  irrevocable 
sternness  of  Providence.     And  as  he  had  sacrificed  happi- 


UNDERCURRENTS.  333 

ness  for  his  patriotic  ideal,  so  he  was  goaded  by  the  desire 
to  strive,  and  strive  again,  to  free  his  country  from  those 
who  oppressed  her  and  injured  him.  The  tyrant  was  not, 
like  Death,  intangible;  he  was  mortal,  he  could  be  as- 
sailed; and  both  patriotism  and  his  personal  grievance 
drove  the  exile  to  strike  at  this  embodiment  of  publio 
wrongs,  this  cause  of  private  sufferings.  No  wonder  that 
a  tincture  of  personal  injury  often  gave  to  his  delibera- 
tions a  hue  of  vindictiveness. 

The  position  of  the  exiles  in  their  Continental  asylums 
was  never  secure;  for,  although  the  plan  of  Metternieh 
and  the  Duke  oi  Modena  to  ship  them  all  to  America  had 
not  been  followed,  nevertheless  they  were  everywhere 
watched  by  the  police,  and  they  might  at  any  moment  be 
arrested  or  conducted  to  the  f  i-ontier  of  the  State  in  which 
they  had  taken  shelter.  Only  in  England,  to  whom  be- 
longs the  honor  of  being  the  first  European  nation  to 
distinguish  between  civil  and  political  criminals  in  her 
treatment  of  foreigners,^  were  they  beyond  the  reach  of 
Metternich's  requisitions;  but  there,  too,  they  were 
dogged  by  his  spies. 

The  majority  of  the  Italian  refugees  settled  in  Paris, 
eluding  so  far  as  they  could  the  surveillance  of  the  Bour- 
bon government,  and  conniving  with  a  host  of  French 
conspirators  bent  on  overturning  that  government.  They 
were  not  always  imlted  among  tliemselves,  for  they  car- 
ried their  local  prejudices  with  them,  and  they  had  mutual 
recriminations,  charges  of  incompetence  and  cowardice, 
to  thresli  over.  They  were  ])reye(l  uj)on  by  theories,  and 
they  sought  remedies  for  i\u'  conditions  which  they  had 
known  before  their  exile,  ratlier  than  for  tliose  actu.ally 
existing  in  their  country.  No  matter  how  close  their 
correspondence  might  b(>  witli  the  Liberals  at  home,  it 
was  inevitable  that  they  sliould  be  ignoi-ant  of  many  vital 
details  concerning  the  men  and  ilie  public  sentiment  that 

^  Stapleton  :    Life  of  ('(innimj,  in,  140. 


334  THE   DAWN   OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

were  to  cooperate  with  them.  Even  when  their  informa- 
tion was  most  recent  and  exact,  they  were  hindered  by 
distance  from  profiting  by  it.  Campaigns  cannot  be  won 
by  letter-writing;  and  the  failure  of  the  conspiracies  of 
the  Italian  exiles  during  more  than  forty  years  proved 
that  Theory  is  quite  another  thing  from  Reality. 

Nevertheless,  the  existence  of  those  bands  of  refugees 
abroad  deeply  affected  the  current  of  plotting  in  Italy, 
and  contributed  indirectly  to  swell  the  stream  of  Liber- 
alism. Among  the  exiles  were  the  men  who  had  been 
most  eminent  in  fomenting  and  guiding  the  revolutions, 
and  to  them  those  of  their  confederates  who  had  escaped 
banishment  still  turned  for  leadership.  In  this  way,  as 
the  Italian  secret  societies  were  drawn  through  their  ban- 
ished members  into  relations  with  the  conspirators  from 
all  parts  of  Europe,  they  began  to  rely  upon  external  aid, 
and  to  watch  the  train  of  events  beyond  the  Alps  for  the 
signal  for  their  own  activity.  This  waiting  for  a  foreign 
initiative  revealed  their  lack  of  concerted  energy  not  less 
than  of  a  strong  commander,  but  also  it  indicated  that 
the  Italians  felt  themselves  bound  by  the  ties  of  a  com- 
mon purj30se  to  the  revolutionists  of  Europe.  The  cause 
they  were  fighting  for  was  international ;  it  was  the  cause 
of  Peoples  against  Despots;  and  the  Peoples  were  awak- 
ening to  the  conviction  that  the  artificial  barriers  set  up 
by  diplomacy  must  not  separate  themselves  from  their 
brothers  in  distress.  From  France  —  terrific  mother  of 
revolutions  —  they  expected  the  initiative  to  issue. 

In  yet  another  way  were  those  exiles  helpful  to  their 
country's  redemption :  they  were  serving  her  as  martyrs. 
Out  of  their  love  for  her  they  had  given  up  their  hopes 
and  happiness,  to  be  living  sacrifices  to  patriotism. 
Suffering  is  the  holy  water  which  purifies  the  heart  of 
man;  renunciation  fortifies  his  will.  When  the  Spirit 
reveals  Truth  to  hiui,  there  comes  with  the  revelation  the 
sense  of  a  hiu'her  dut  v  to  which  he  must  consecrate  his 


UNDERCURRENTS.  335 

life.  The  moral  progress  of  the  race  has  been  marked 
by  the  discovery  of  objects  which  it  is  nobler  to  die  for 
than  to  live  without.  And  now  thousands  of  Italians 
were  willing  to  endure  exile  or  imprisonment  in  behalf 
of  an  ideal  for  which,  a  generation  earlier,  scarcely  one 
Italian  felt  called  upon  to  suffer.  This  example  of  devo- 
tion could  not  but  make  a  deep  impression  on  their  coun- 
trymen, teaching  them  that  the  national  cause  had  been 
sanctified  by  blood  and  tribulation,  and  imposing  upon 
them  also  a  patriotic  duty.  Only  the  partisans  of  tyr- 
anny, or  those  who  were  basely  indifferent,  could  be  un- 
moved when  they  reflected  that  many  of  their  fellows 
were  wandering  in  foreign  lands  or  pining  in  loathsome 
prisons,  because  they  had  dared  to  assert  that  Italy  must 
be  free.  From  the  fortress  of  Spielberg  was  flung  a 
black  shadow  of  mourning,  — a  constant  reminder  of  the 
government  which  had  sworn  to  keep  Italy  enslaved. 
Metternich  in  his  shortsightedness  believed  that  he  could 
pluck  out  the  heart  of  Italian  Liberalism  antl  cast  it  into 
his  Moravian  dungeon,  there  to  rot;  but  every  pang  he 
caused,  everj^  drop  of  that  blood  he  shed,  multiplied  an 
hundred  fohl  the  hatred  of  the  Italians  for  their  tormen- 
tors. That  liatred,  no  tardy  graciousness  of  his  coidd 
soften  >  it  became  an  instinct,  a  ruling  passion,  which 
must  destroy  its  antagonist,  or  be  itself  destroyed. 

Th(>  pitiless  retribution  which  had  been  exacted  from 
the  revolutionists  of  1820-21  did  not  quash  cons})iracy ; 
on  the  contrary,  the  gaps  made  in  the  secret  societies 
were  filled  with  new  members,  wliose  wrath  was  heiglit- 
ened  by  the  thouglit  of  their  exiled  and  imprisoned 
brothers.  But  recent  experience  had  taught  tlie  plotters 
caution,  and  many  of  the  sects  sj)lit  up  into  new  organ- 
izations or  dianged  flieir  names.  They  had  a  dangerous 
enemy  in  the  Sanfedists,  —  literally  tlie  *'  Ilolv  Falthists." 
—  a  sect  founded  and  eneoui-iged  Ity  the  Roman  Curia 
for  the  special  object  of  nentiali/ing  the  sul)veisive  inlhi- 


336  THE   DAWN   OF  ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

ence  of  the  revolutionists.^  The  Sanfedists  were  more 
widely  diffused,  and  they  had  more  pertinacity,  than 
Prince  Canosa's  Tinkers,  and  they  were,  therefore,  more 
successful  in  following  the  trail  of  the  Carbonari  and 
their  confederates ;  but  neither  they  nor  the  ever- vigilant 
police,  nor  the  severe  punishment  that  was  dealt  out, 
deterred  the  conspirators,  who  made  proselytes,  and  laid 
their  plans  against  the  day  when  France  should  signal, 
"Strike." 

The  despotic  governments,  having  taken  vengeance  on 
the  insurgents  and  plotters  of  1820-21,  did  not  relax 
their  sternness.  They  reformed  no  abuses;  they  would 
not  conciliate  even  the  most  moderate  remonstrants  by 
listening  to  them,  but  held  stubbornly  to  their  policy 
of  treating  every  murmur  as  a  crime.  In  Piedmont 
Charles  Felix  gave  himself  up  to  the  lleactionists,  even 
neglecting  the  army  which  had  long  been  the  particular 
pride  of  his  dynasty  and  had  served  to  gratify  the  ambition 
of  the  active  Piedmontese.  In  Lombardy  and  Venetia 
the  Austrians  maintained  their  enervating  rule,  which 
seemed  outwardly  less  oppressive  than  that  of  any  Italian 
province  except  Tuscany,  but  which  was  inwardly  unyield- 
ing and  merciless.  Towards  the  end  of  the  decade,  when 
Metternich  judged  that  his  police  were  sufficiently  expert, 
and  that  the  examples  he  had  made  of  the  victims  in  the 
Spielberg  would  frighten  other  conspirators  from  violence, 
he  adopted  different  methods,  hoping  that,  by  allowing 
the  upper  classes  to  indulge  freely  in  luxury  and  pleasure, 
he  could  divert  them  from  political  affairs  and  gradually 
render  them  too  supine  to  raise  even  a  protest  against 
their  master.  IMilan  became  again  the  gay  capital, 
where  balls,  theatres,  vice-regal  entertainments,  and  aris- 

^  Caiitu  (Cronistoria,  ii,  135)  doubts  the  existence  of  the  Sanfedists ; 
but  every  history  of  that  time  refers  to  them,  and  it  is  improbable  that  an 
imaginary  society  could  for  more  than  twenty  years  have  been  treated  as 
actually  existing  both  by  its  supposed  friends  and  by  its  avowed  ene- 
mies. 


UNDERCURRENTS.  337 

tocratic  dissipations  of  all  kinds  created  fictitious  merri- 
ment. It  is  an  old  trick  of  tyrants  to  make  vice  seduc- 
tive. In  Lucca  the  death  of  Maria  Louisa  (1824)  and  the 
succession  of  her  son,  Charles  Louis,  caused  no  change 
in  the  condition  of  that  principality;  nor  was  Tuscany 
disturbed  when  her  easy-going  Grand  Duke  Ferdinand 
died  (1824);  for  his  son,  Leopold  II,  pursued,  under 
the  guidance  of  Fossorabroni,  the  system  of  not  inter- 
fering with  his  subjects  so  long  as  they  refrained  from 
meddling  in  politics.  But  Tuscany,  with  her  common- 
place prosperity  and  her  unaspiring  respectability,  seemed 
a  land  of  freedom  compared  with  the  neighboring  States 
of  the  Church,  where  the  material  condition  grew  year  by 
year  more  wretched,  and  the  government  of  the  priests 
became  as  intolerable  to  man  as  if  devils  were  secretly 
directing  it, 

Pius  VII,  after  several  false  alarms,  died,  to  the  sat- 
isfaction of  the  Cardinals  eager  to  succeed  him,  in  Au- 
gust, 1823.  The  Conclave  chose  Annibale  della  Genga 
in  his  place.  Leo  XII,  for  by  that  name  the  new  pope 
wished  to  be  called,  was  a  reactionary,  who  construed 
reform  to  mean  the  restoration  to  the  Cardinals  and  the 
higher  prelates  of  those  autocratic  privileges  which  had 
been  curtailed  by  Consalvi.  Ilis  early  days  had  not  been 
without  scandal,  but  he  now  lived  austerely  with  his 
breviary  and  his  pet  cat,  and  meditated  measures  for 
enforcing  a  stricter  observance  of  religious  ceremonials. 
To  protect  the  morals  of  his  subjects,  he  ordered  tin  fig- 
leaves  to  ])e  put  on  the  anticpie  statues;  to  show  tliat 
he  believed  the  human  body  is  made  in  God's  image,  he 
forbade  vaccination  as  a  })r()('ess  whereby  the  "liuman 
form  divine"  was  tainted  by  virus  from  an  animal,  lie 
enforced  savage  ordinances  against  the  Jews,  revived  tlie 
rule  of  primogeniture,  aud  grauted  feudal  immunities 
without  stint.  He  degraded  th<^  judiciary  more  than 
ever;   he  showed   his  inedia-valisui   by  requiring  Latin  to 


338  THE   DAWN   OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

be  spoken  in  the  law  courts  and  in  the  universities.  In 
dealing  with  concerns  of  larger  note,  his  administration 
oscillated  between  untimely  cruelty  and  untimely  compli- 
ance. Thus  when  brigands  —  the  unerring  products  of 
bad  government  —  became  so  audacious  and  insolent  that 
the  Pope  was  shamed  into  a  display  of  energy,  he  dis- 
patched Cardinal  Pallotta  with  full  powers  against  them. 
But  Pallotta  by  indiscriminate  executions  only  exasper- 
ated the  evil,  and  had  to  be  recalled.  Then  Cardinal 
Benvenuti  was  charged  with  the  task;  and  he  brought 
about  a  temporary  cessation  of  brigandage  by  buying  off 
the  brigands,  many  of  whom  were  promised  pensions  for 
life.  Equally  monstrous  and  blundering  was  Leo's  pol- 
icy towards  his  discontented  subjects  in  liomagna  and 
the  Legations.  By  his  harshness  the  Liberal  sects  were 
hounded  into  open  turbidence.  They  had  frequent  con- 
flicts with  the  Sanfedists,  who  were  incited  by  priests  and 
wandering  friars.  A  revolution  being  imminent,  Leo 
commissioned  Cardinal  Rivarola  to  restore  tranquillity 
by  any  means.  Rivarola  was  an  ecclesiastic  of  the  Tor- 
quemada  stripe,  —  fanatical,  merciless,  shortsighted,  — 
a  physician  who  did  not  prescribe  a  cure,  but  only  pal- 
liatives for  the  moment.  He  worked  with  such  vigor  that 
he  had  soon  filled  the  prisons  with  actual  or  alleged  con- 
spirators upon  whom  he  passed  sentence,  having  scarcely 
deigned  to  observe  the  form  of  legality.  Five  hundred 
and  eight  victims  were  condemned  by  him,  some  to  death, 
—  the  sentence  was  not  carried  out,  —  some  to  the  galleys 
for  longer  or  shorter  terms,  and  some  to  daily  registra- 
tion at  the  police  stations.  Having  sufficiently  inspired 
terror,  he  published  a  specious  amnesty ;  but  the  sectaries 
were  not  to  be  lured  from  their  revenge.  They  hated  him 
with  an  immitigable  hatred,  and  at  Ravenna  they  made 
an  attempt  on  his  life.  Thereupon  an  extraordinary 
commission,  presided  by  Monsignor  Invernizzi,  a  man  as 
much  like  Rivarola  as  wolf  and  wolf,  was  appointed  to 


UNDERCURRENTS.  33^ 

punish  the  supposed  assassins.  Many  arrests,  barbarous 
tortures,  seven  victims  for  the  gibbet,  another  company 
for  the  galleys,  and  a  multitude  of  suspects  consigned  to 
police  surveillance,  —  these  were  the  consequences  of  this 
new  process,  which  caused  Invernizzi  to  be  detested,  and 
the  assassins  to  be  pitied.  Intermittent  spurts  of  fero- 
city like  this  could  not  conceal  the  constitutional  feeble- 
ness of  the  Papal  government,  and  they  only  envenomed 
the  sects  which  they  were  intended  to  dissolve.  The  key 
of  heaven  was  rusty  from  disuse ;  with  his  other  key,  Leo 
seemed  to  have  unlocked  hell,  whence  demons  issued  to 
plague  his  realm.  They  laughed  at  excommunication, 
and  feared  not  holy  water;  they  assumed  the  shapes  of 
cardinals  not  less  than  of  conspirators ;  but  thoy  must  be 
exorcised,  if  the  Holy  See  was  to  retain  its  worldly  power. 
In  the  Kingdom  of  the  Two  Sicilies,  where  there  was 
no  cant  pretense  of  governing  by  the  inspiration  of  the 
Holy  Ghost,  the  situation  grew  yearly  worse.  King 
Ferdinand  was  found  one  morning  dead  in  his  bed  (1825): 
terror  frozen  on  his  countenance,  his  limbs  stiffened  in 
convidsed  posture,  just  as  he  had  unexpectedly  been  seized 
by  Death,  and  striven  to  writhe  himself  free;  no  friend 
present  to  comfort  him,  no  priest  to  absolve  him  from  his 
mountainous  burden  of  crimes.  Though  we  excus(Kl  liis 
tyrannical  methods  as  tlie  product  of  his  education  and 
inheritance,  yet  there  would  remain  against  him  a  record 
of  personal  iniquity  seldom  ecpialed  even  by  his  Bourbon 
kindred;  for  lie  was  a  liar,  a  debauchee,  a  ])erjurer,  alter- 
nately a  bully  or  a  coward,  and  an  inveterate  dissinui- 
lator.  Nevertheless  his  son  Francis,  who  succeeded  to 
the  throne,  in  some  resju'cts  suri)assed  Iiiui  in  baseness ; 
for  Ferdinand,  it  was  said,  had  made  tyranny  (h'testable, 
while  Francis  made  it  des])i('abl(>.  He  it  was  wlio  had 
acted  as  viceroy  during  the  revolution,  and  the  altject 
fear  whieh  then  imjielh'd  him  to  feign  h)yalty  to  tlie  Lil)- 
erals  haunted  him  to  the  end.    He  dared  not  drivt'  tlirouiih 


340  THE    DAWN    OF   ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

« 

the  streets  of  Naples  without  having  first  learned  from 
the  Minister  of  Police  what  route  would  be  safe.  He 
relied  upon  the  Austrian  garrisons  to  keep  popular  dis- 
content from  flaring  up  in  another  rebellion ;  and  when 
the  Austrians  were  withdrawn,  he  contracted  with  Swit- 
zerland to  furnish  him  a  guard  of  six  thousand  soldiers 
for  thirty  years.  Under  him  the  Camorra^  a  sort  of  Black- 
mailers' Cooperative  Society  and  Thieves'  Alliance,  sprang 
up.  Corruption  rankled  in  every  department  of  his  ad- 
ministration. Through  his  valet,  Vaglica,  and  a  chamber- 
maid, Catherine  de  Simone, —  two  illiterate  and  venal  crea- 
tures whom  he  chose  for  his  favorites,  —  he  maintained 
a  traffic  in  government  appointments.^  "Whoever  buys 
an  office,"  he  used  to  say,  "takes  care  not  to  lose  it,  and 
is  faithful."  So  great  was  his  dread  of  poison  that  he 
would  allow  only  this  woman  to  prepare  his  food,  and  she 
must  first  taste  it  in  his  presence  before  he  would  eat. 
Like  his  father,  he  had  a  passion  for  hunting,  and  spent 
more  money  on  this  sport  than  on  public  education  through- 
out his  kingdom.  Pie,  too,  was  annoyed  by  brigands  and 
by  conspirators ;  but  the  barbarity  with  which  he  perse- 
cuted the  fractious  who  fell  into  his  power  aroused  popu- 
lar detestation  against  himself,  and  sympathy  for  them. 
Indeed,  brigandage  was  often  a  protest,  on  the  part  of 
men  who  had  still  enough  manliness  to  protect  them- 
selves, against  the  unjust,  venal,  and  cruel  government. 
The  King's  minion,  Intonti,  Minister  of  Police,  and  Dol- 
carretto,  commander  of  the  gendarmerie  and  special  mili- 
tary agent,  earned  by  their  bloodthirstiness  and  duplicity 
a  reputation  hardly  less  atrocious  than  that  of  Kuffo  and 
Canosa.  The  Neapolitan  State,  with  its  prisons  full, 
its  offices,  civil  and  ecclesiastical,  possessed  by  bribers, 

1  Bishoprics  sold  for  4,000  ducats  ;  civil  offices  for  a  usurious  percentage 
of  the  salary  attached  to  them  ;  collectorships  -were  bestowed  upon  in- 
fants, the  father  of  the  appointee  taking-  the  money.  See  N.  Nisco  :  Gli 
Uhimi  Trentasei  Anni  del  lieame  di  Napoli  (Naples,  1889),  i,  71. 


UNDERCURRENTS.  341 

its  towns  swarming  with  sectaries  and  spies,  and  its 
provinces  infested  by  outlaws,  must  have  burst  asunder, 
had  not  the  Holy  Alliance  covenanted  to  preserve  even 
rottenness,  so  long  as  any  trace  of  Legitimacy  could  be 
discerned  on  the  rotting  carcass. 

If,  therefore,  the  Italian  Liberals  had  grievances  suffi- 
cient to  justify  their  revolution  in  1820,  every  year  in  the 
decade  that  followed  brought  fresh  aggravations  upon 
them,  and  urged  them  to  hazard  another  effort.  Their 
governors  waxed  more  despotic,  manifesting  a  reckless 
indifference  to  the  wishes  of  their  subjects,  and  a  deter- 
mination never  to  compromise ;  for  the  certainty  of  being 
protected  by  Austria  made  rulers  insolent  who  were  by 
nature  cowards.  The  recollection  of  the  persecution  which 
their  friends  had  suffered  after  the  defeats  in  Piedmont 
and  Naples  quickened  the  anger  of  the  conspirators;  the 
activity  of  the  exiles  seemed  to  be  based  on  strength  that 
would  prove  invincible.  The  sects  were  busy,  and  if  they 
still  lacked  leadership  and  union  they  felt  that  they  were 
engaged  in  a  movement  not  restricted  to  Italy,  but  em- 
bracing the  o])])ressed  and  discontented  elements  of  soci- 
ety in  Central  and  Western  Europe.  The  conflict  be- 
tween the  Italians  and  their  tormentors  miirlit  be  delaved : 
it  could  not  be  avoided ;  but  the  success  of  the  i)atriots 
would  depend  not  only  on  their  own  energy-  and  prudence, 
but  on  favorable  international  contingencies.  As  the  year 
1830  approached,  the  hearts  of  the  ])lotters  grew  buoy- 
ant, for  the  stars  which  ruled  the  political  destinies  of 
Kurope  seemed  to  be  Hearing  that  position  which  por- 
tended good  fortune  to  Italy. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE   REVOLUTIONS   OF   1831. 

At  the  end  of  July,  1830,  Paris  blazed  into  revolution. 
For  months  previous  every  one  had  predicted  an  eruption, 
but  when  it  came,  and  belched  firebrands  over  France 
and  Europe,  many  persons  were  taken  by  surprise.  On 
the  very  eve  of  the  calamity  Charles  X  played  whist  at 
St.  Cloud ;  the  next  day  he  was  scampering  across  France 
to  seek  refuge  in  England,  It  does  not  concern  us  to 
unravel  the  intrigues  which  interrupted  his  card-playing, 
and  set  Louis  Philippe,  his  Orleanist  cousin,  on  the  French 
throne.  The  details  are  not  always  clear,  but  it  is  clear 
that  the  most  vigorous  of  the  plotters  had  not  worked  for 
this  result.  They  aimed  at  establishing  a  Republic,  for 
they  had  no  more  illusions  about  monarchy,  and  they 
were  disgusted  with  the  Bourbons.  The  friends  of  Louis 
Philippe  —  a  royal  Micawber,  who  had  for  forty  years 
been  good-naturedly  waiting  for  a  crown  to  turn  up  — 
saw  their  opportunity,  fraternized  with  the  Republicans, 
and  professed  an  unquenchable  desire  to  exterminate  the 
whole  brood  of  European  Absolutists.  Therefore  Repub- 
licans and  Orleanists  plotted  along  parallel  lines;  the 
Twenty  -  ninth  of  July  came,  and  the  government  of 
France  fell  into  their  power.  Which  of  them  should 
keep  it?  The  majority  of  the  active  conspirators  still 
desired  the  Republic,  but  was  the  majority  of  the  Frencli 
people  with  them  ?  The  middle  classes  feared  anarchy, 
and  the  Orleanists  cunningly  excited  their  fears.  The 
Republic  was  a  noble  ideal,  —  none  would  deny  that,  ■ — 
but  what  if  it  should  sink  into  another  Reiii"u  of  Terror? 


THE   REVOLUTIONS   OF    1831.  343 

The  country  was  not  yet  educated  for  an  out-and-out  de- 
mocracy;  why  not,  therefore,  compromise?  Why  not  a<^ree 
upon  the  most  Liberal  form  of  constitutional  monarchy? 
The  decision  had  to  be  made  quickly,  for  tumults  were 
impending  at  home,  and  the  Absolutist  Powers  abroad 
might  at  any  moment  interfere.  Lafayette,  who  was 
only  less  facile  than  Talleyrand  himself  in  moulting  his 
plumage  to  suit  the  political  season,  commanded  the 
National  Guard  at  this  crisis,  was  persuaded  by  the 
Orleanist  arguments,  and  threw  his  great  influence  in 
favor  of  Louis  Philippe.  Thus,  without  an  appeal  to 
the  nation,  was  set  up  a  constitutional  monarchy  which 
broke  the  fall  between  autocracy  and  republicanism. 

There  are  certain  amphibious  creatures  which  seem  so 
well  adapted  to  a  life  on  land  that  you  never  suspect  their 
aquatic  nature ;  but  let  them  by  chance  come  down  to  the 
water,  and  they  swim  off,  and  adjust  themselves  to  their 
new  element  as  if  they  had  known  no  other.  Such  a 
creature,  in  the  political  sense,  was  Louis  Philippe;  once 
on  the  throne,  he  forgot  his  past  })romises  and  confeder- 
ates, and  was  only  intent  on  making  his  dynasty  firm. 
This  double  nature  explains  the  insincerity  of  his  attitude 
towards  the  European  Liberals,  —  insincerity  whicli,  as 
we  shall  presently  see,  was  disastrous  to  the  Italians  who 
had  trust(!d  in  him.  Althongli  by  adroitness  he  had 
glided  into  kingship,  a  C()nsi(leral)le  faction  of  tlie  French 
felt  that  they  had  been  swindled.  To  conciliate  them, 
lie  sang  a  song  of  reform,  and  went  about  with  an  osten- 
tatious simplicity  whicli  might  ])ersn;i(le  the  stnbbornest 
Hadicals  that,  although  he  was  called  king,  lu'  was  at 
heart  as  much  a  citizen  as  the  best  of  tlicni.  To  the  au- 
tocrats of  the  Holy  Alliance  he  had  to  play  another  tune. 
Since  181.>  they  had  maintained  the  principle  of  Le- 
gitimacy, forbidding  any  change  in  dynasties  that  was 
not  ])rovided  for  by  the  Congress  of  N'icnna :  thev  had 
refused   all   transaction  with   the  products  of   the   revolu- 


344  THE   DAWN    OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

tion;  they  had  stifled  the  efforts  of  Liberals  in  Naples, 
in  Piedmont,  and  in  Spain ;  they  had  made  it  the  cardinal 
doctrine  of  their  creed  that  no  people  had  the  right  to 
alter  their  government  against  the  wishes  of  their  sover- 
eign and  the  consent  of  his  allies.  How,  then,  conld 
they  admit  to  their  exclusive  circle  this  subverter  of  the 
principle  of  Legitimacy,  this  product  of  a  revolution  in 
France  ?  Louis  Philippe  played  to  them  a  seductive  air. 
Instead  of  spurning  him  as  an  incendiary,  he  said,  they 
ought  to  be  grateful  to  him  for  having  put  out  a  fire  that 
threatened  to  ravage  Europe.  Duty  alone  had  overcome 
his  unwillingness  to  burden  his  shoulders  with  kingly 
responsibility  at  that  dangerous  crisis,  when  he  alone  had 
the  power  to  save  France  from  ruin  and  his  neighbors 
from  calamity.  His  intentions,  he  assured  them,  were 
conservative  and  peaceful,  and  he  would  endeavor  to  fulfil 
the  international  engagements  of  his  predecessors  in  so  far 
as  he  could  do  this  without  clashing  with  the  moderate 
sentiments  of  the  French. 

The  Great  Powers  were  not  fooled  by  these  declara- 
tions :  they  saw  that  Louis  Philippe's  ill-concealed  dynas- 
tic ambition  was  a  better  guarantee  than  all  his  protests 
that  he  would  henceforth  keep  the  peace  and  eschew  the 
revolution.  Metternich  regretted  that  the  Allies  had  not 
an  army  on  the  French  frontier,  to  march  double-quick 
to  Paris  and  strangle  the  monster  of  Jacobinism  once  for 
all.  He  sounded  tlie  Allies  as  to  their  willingness  to 
hold  another  Congress,  but  they  were  disinclined ;  Eng- 
land had  already  recognized  the  July  monarchy,  and 
Prussia  soon  imitated  her.  The  Czar,  indeed,  was  angry 
enough  to  go  to  war,  had  not  his  neighbors'  reluctance 
and  the  internal  affairs  of  his  Empire  restrained  him; 
therefore,  though  he  officially  accepted  Louis  Philippe  as 
King  of  the  French,  he  allowed  his  irritation  to  appear 
through  the  insulting  terms  in  which  his  consent  as 
couched.     Metternich,  also,  who  had  reduced  snubbing 


THE   REVOLUTIONS   OF    1831.  345 

to  a  fine  art,  expressed  his  contempt  for  the  Orleanist 
usurper,  but  in  a  form  so  subtle  that  no  stickler  for  cour- 
tesy could  resent  it.  When  General  Bellard,  the  French 
envoy,  discoursed  to  him  of  Louis  Philippe's  good  inten- 
tions, and  of  his  service  to  European  tranquillity  in 
checking  the  revolution,  and  of  his  ability  thenceforth  to 
keep  France  quiet,  Metternich  ironically  replied  that  this 
was  the  old  story  which  previous  French  ministers  had 
told  him:  "but,"  he  added,  "after  our  recent  experience, 
how  can  we  ever  put  faith  in  such  declarations?"  Never- 
theless, he  realized  that  at  present  it  would  be  more  pru- 
dent to  acquiesce  in  a  disagreeable  infringement  of  his 
principle  of  Legitimacy  than  to  hazard  a  war:  so  Em- 
peror Francis,  at  his  dictation,  wrote  a  chilly  letter  of 
recognition  to  the  new  French  king. 

Whilst  Louis  Philippe,  by  secretly  disavowing  any 
sympathy  with  revolutionists,  was  humbly  seeking  admit- 
tance to  the  clique  of  European  sovereigns,  he  had  to 
speak  deferentially  of  the  revolution  to  his  French  sub- 
jects; for  to  have  denounced  before  them  the  methods  of 
the  Twenty-ninth  of  July  would  have  been  to  admit  that 
his  elevation  to  the  throne  was  illegal,  and  that  the  Al- 
lied Powers  woidd  be  justified  in  restoring  Charles  X,  as 
they  had  formerly  restored  Louis  XVIII.  lie  therefore 
proclaimed  that  each  people  has  the  riglit  to  manage  its 
internal  affairs,  and  that  any  attem])t  by  a  foreign  govern- 
ment to  restrict  or  to  crush  that  i-ight  must  be  resisted. 
France  was  strong  enough  now  to  defy  an  invasion ;  or, 
say  ratlier,  the  Allies  were  in  an  unfavorable  j)osition  for 
invading  her.  They  remembered  how  she  had  Inuled 
back  their  armies  in  1792,  and  for  many  years  afterward ; 
they  knew,  too,  that  t\ut  moment  in  wliieli  they  ordered 
tlieir  troo])s  to  cross  hei'  frontier  would  be  tlie  signal  for 
rebellion  in  their  own  lands;  they  dreaded  a  (leatli-gra]>- 
])le  with  Liberalism;  and  so  tliey  allowed  Louis  Phili])])e 
and  his  ministers  to  babble  al)out  non-intervention.      Af- 


340  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

ter  all,  had  they  not  private  assurances  from  himself  that 
if  they  did  not  interfere  with  his  schemes  in  France  they 
would  find  him  a  very  safe  neighbor? 

Such  was  the  lievolutiou  of  July  as  it  appeared  to  the 
actors  behind  the  scenes;  an  unheroic  performance,  in 
which  mean  ambitions  and  diplomatic  chicane  were  the 
web  whereof  the  plot  was  woven;  a  solemn  farce  to  any 
sj)ectator  who  knew  that  all  the  bluster  and  patriotic 
affirmations  were  counterfeit,  and  that  only  the  ill-humor 
was  real.  But  the  European  public,  as  unsophisticated 
as  children  at  their  first  play,  were  thrilled  by  it  be- 
yond measure,  and,  rnimicxy  being  instinctive  in  child- 
hood, they  set  about  rehearsing  revolutions  of  their 
own.  Erelong,  Belgium  had  risen  against  the  Dutch; 
the  native  troops  in  Russian  Poland  had  mutinied  and 
proclaimed  the  independence  of  their  unhappy  coun- 
try, which  had  become  enslaved  through  the  sins  of  their 
f oref atliers ;  hope  was  throbbing  in  the  hearts  of  stolid 
German  Liberals;  and  the  Italian  conspirators  were 
already  discussing  what  to  do  after  they  had  rid  Italy 
of  her  tyrants. 

To  the  Italians,  indeed,  the  news  of  Louis  Philippe's 
easy  victory  did  not  come  as  a  surj)rise ;  they  had  been 
expecting  the  revolution  for  a  long  time  past,  and  were 
only  surprised  that  it  had  exploded  so  early.  There  was 
at  Paris  a  Cosmopolitan  Committee,  composed  of  exiles 
and  plotters  from  all  parts  of  the  Continent,  which  was 
not  only  in  close  relations  with  Lafayette,  Dupont  de 
I'Eure,  and  the  other  French  Republicans,  but  also  with 
the  leaders  of  the  revolutionary  sects  in  their  several 
countries.  This  Committee  had  planned  that  the  upris- 
ing should  take  place  simultaneously  in  France,  Spain, 
and  Italy,  and  that  those  three  Latin  peoples,  once  free, 
should  unite  in  a  league  to  defend  each  other  against  the 
probable  attack  of  Austria  and  Russia.  Charles  the 
Tenth's  mad  wilfnhiess  liad  forced  the  issue  upon  France 


THE   KEVOLUTIONS   OF    1831.  347 

a  little  too  soon  for  her  confederates.  Nevertheless,  the 
Italians  were  almost  as  exultant  as  if  therr  own  victory 
had  been  secured ;  for  they  had  the  success  of  the  French 
to  cheer  them,  and  on  the  French  throne  they  saw  a  king 
who  had  been  created  by  their  friends,  and  whom  the 
Holy  Alliance  had  not  dared  to  assail.  France  was  again 
the  Grand  Nation,  whose  armies  had  thundered  through 
Europe  a  generation  ago,  and  France  was  now  with 
them,  and  with  all  those  who  would  break  the  chains  of 
the  Old  Itcgime.  For,  listen  to  the  utterances  of  Louis 
Philippe's  ministers.  "Whereas  the  Holy  Alliance  was 
founded  on  the  principle  of  interfering  in  the  domestic 
affairs  of  foreign  countries,"  said  Marshal  Sebastiani, 
in  Parliament,  — "a  principle  which  destroys  the  inde- 
pendence of  States,  —  France  now  hallows  the  opposite 
principle,  and  will  cause  the  independence  of  all  to  be  re- 
spected." And  Lafitte  declared  with  equal  resoluteness: 
"  France  will  not  permit  the  principle  of  non-intervention 
to  be  violated."  What  assurances  more  sure,  what  in- 
citement more  direct,  could  the  Italians  require?  The 
enemy  which  had  thwarted  their  patriotic  comrades  since 
1815,  and  had  decreed  perpetual  serfdom  for  Italy,  was 
Austria,  and  now  France  had  said  that  she  woiild  tolerate 
no  longer  Austria's  meddling  in  the  concerns  of  weaker 
States.  So  the  Italians  had  no  doubt  of  their  ability  to 
deal  with  their  local  tyrants,  and  the  last  prc])arati()ns 
for  the  revolution  were  diligentlv  puslied  forward. 

The  area  of  expected  disturbance  included  the  Duchy 
of  MotU'ua  and  the  States  of  the  Church,  but  tlie  rest  of 
the  Peninsula  was  in  a  feverish  condition  wliich  ])redis- 
j)osed  it  to  catch  tlie  revolutionary  ei)i(lemic.  Never  had 
Italian  conspii-acy  entered  a  phase  so  di-amatic  and  inter- 
esting as  the  ])rcsent.  1  he  sects  at  home  were  in  touch 
witli  their  exiled  colleagues  at  Paris,  where,  in  the  enthu- 
siastic imagination  of  the  plotters,  there  existed  a  maga- 
zine or  reservoir  wluuice  they  might  draw  unlimited  assist- 


348  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

ance.  The  sects  themselves  had  as  usual  their  differ- 
ences and  rivalries :  there  were  the  Unitarians,  who  made 
the  unification  of  the  Italian  provinces  the  chief  object  to 
be  attained;  there  were  the  Federatists,  who  insisted  that 
only  a  federal  union  would  satisfy  them;  there  were 
smaller  factions,  each  with  its  peculiar  hobby  and  pan- 
acea ;  but  sufficient  harmony  ran  through  these  discordant 
elements  to  cause  each  to  waive  for  the  present  its  pet 
design,  and  to  join  in  the  common  struggle  for  indepen- 
dence. More  strange  even  than  their  temporary  unison 
was  their  belief  that  they  had  secured  as  their  ally  and 
leader  the  Italian  tyrant  who  had  hitherto  been  the  most 
active  and  the  most  execrated  enemy  of  Liberalism. 
Francis  of  Modena,  whose  cruelty  after  the  revolt  of  1821 
had  earned  for  him  the  nickname  "Butcher,"  —  he  who 
had  never  slackened  his  oppressive  government,  and  who 
had  recently  taken  Prince  Canosa  into  his  confidence,  — 
was  now  leagued  with  conspirators  whom  he  once  urged 
the  Allied  Powers  to  send  like  convicts  beyond  the  sea. 
How  had  this  singular  truce  between  the  wolf  and  sheep 
been  compacted? 

I  am  not  one  of  those  historians  whose  self-confidence 
suffices,  in  the  lack  of  an  authentic  clue,  to  guide  them 
through  the  labyrinth  of  dark  and  tortuous  events.  The 
supreme  value  of  history  depends  upon  the  truthfulness 
with  which  it  traces  the  great  currents  of  human  life, 
rather  than  upon  its  ability  to  explain  why  some  particu- 
lar eddy  or  ripple  disturbed  the  surface  of  the  stream  at 
a  given  point.  The  individual  man  is  often  a  mystery  to 
himself  and  a  paradox  to  others ;  and  it  is  as  rare  in  mat- 
ters of  State  as  in  private  matters  that  you  can  say  with 
certainty,  "This  deed  resulted  from  a  single  motive." 
As  a  tree  has  many  roots,  so  actions  usuall}'  sjJring  from 
many  motives :  our  volition  has  an  ancestry  whose  pedi- 
gree is  unknown  to  us.  And  yet,  in  spite  of  the  eccen- 
tricity and  contradictions  of  special  acts,  we  discover,  by 


THE   REVOLUTIONS   OF   1831.  349 

comparing  one  act  with  another,  that  one  law  unifies 
them,  and  tliat  in  their  sum,  they  reveal  the  character  out 
of  which  they  grew.  The  moral  integrity  of  the  universe 
will  not  be  violated ;  each  seed  brings  forth  fruit  after  its 
kind.  If  we  are  deluded  by  external  inconsistencies  into 
a  belief  in  luck,  if  we  fall  into  that  deepest  of  errors,  — 
the  only  atheism,  which  pretends  that  we  can  sow  Evil 
and  somehow  reap  Good,  —  it  is  because  we  are  still  but 
as  children  in  our  knowledge  of  the  laws  of  s])iritual 
growth  and  compensation.  The  desire  to  be  guiltless  of 
this  immoral  worship  of  Chance,  and  to  leave  no  nook 
for  Chaos,  ])rompts  some  historians  to  round  out  with 
theories  of  their  own  the  gaps  made  by  defective  evidence ; 
and  this  they  do  with  no  conscious  purpose  of  falsifying, 
but  with  dread  lest  the  mysterious  ])aradoxes  of  human 
nature  be  charged  to  them.  But  the  historian,  I  repeat, 
has  no  business  to  invent  motives  for  the  sake  of  clear- 
ness, nor  to  pass  judgment  on  insuffit-ient  testimony,  for 
the  sake  of  showing  his  respect  for  justice.  It  is  not  he, 
but  the  poet,  —  a  Sophocles  or  a  Shakespeare,  —  whose 
duty  it  is  to  illustrate  by  the  typical  creatures  of  the 
imagination  the  unerring  operations  of  the  moral  law, 
and  to  C()m})lete  and  classify  what  seems  to  our  ignorance 
fragmentary  and  confused.  Let  us,  therefore,  frankly 
admit  that  in  the  transactions  of  the  Duke  of  Moch'ua 
with  th(^  conspiring  Lilxu-als  there  are  dai'k  ])la('es  wliich 
liave  n(!ver  been  satisfactorily  lighted,  and  inconsistent 
(Un'ds  for  wliich  we  can  only  suggest  th(^  motives.  The 
(•lii(;f  actors  in  this  curious  episoiU'  never  sj)oke  out,  nor 
left  a  written  confession;  but  the  main  facts,  tlie  external 
events,  are  known,  and  from  tliis  knowledge  of  the  hoin 
we  can  conjectures  with  more  or  less  j)lausil)ilitv  concern- 
ing th(>  ii'Inj.  Let  us  tak(>  care,  however,  not  to  mistake 
our  conjectures  for  facts. 

Vhi'  Dukc^   of   Modcna,  we  may  rcnienibcr.  liad  so  pi-o- 
digious  anaiul)ition  tliat  three  of  its  giant's  strides  in  any 


350  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

direction  took  him  clean  out  of  his  little  duchy.  He  was 
not  one  of  the  languidly  covetous,  but  one  who,  being 
endowed  with  vigorous  qualities,  pursued  steadfastly  the 
object  he  coveted.  He  had  been  baffled  in  his  designs  on 
the  Piedmontese  succession,  —  baffled,  but  not  yet  beaten. 
A  believer  in  the  Old  Regime,  he  had  forced  the  sovereigns 
of  the  Holy  Alliance  to  regard  him  as  one  who,  on  a  small 
scale,  had  approved  himself  a  master  in  persecution ;  and 
if  they,  or  Fate,  would  but  grant  him  a  wider  field,  he 
had  both  the  will  and  the  energy  to  outdo  the  most  viru- 
lent of  them  in  Herod-like  atrocities.  He  constructed  a 
miniature  model  of  a  perfect  engine  of  autocracy ;  he  had 
paid  agents  in  all  parts  of  Italy  to  inform  him  of  the  in- 
trigues of  diplomacy  and  the  plots  of  conspirators.  He 
was  closely  linked  with  the  extreme  Reactionaries  at  Rome, 
and  he  instigated  the  Sanfedists  in  their  machinations 
asainst  the  Liberals.  But  dearer  to  him  than  Sanfedism 
or  Reaction  was  his  personal  aggrandizement.  Suddenly, 
towards  the  close  of  1830,  it  was  whispered  about  that  he 
was  secretly  encouraging  the  Liberals  in  their  designs  for 
a  general  revolution.  Just  when  he  turned  a  friendly  ear 
to  them  we  do  not  know.  It  may  be  that  his  motive  was 
at  first  treacherous,  —  that  he  pretended  friendliness,  in 
order  the  better  to  learn  their  plot  and  so  to  foil  it :  and 
then  having  listened  to  their  seductive  projects,  he  seems 
to  have  been  fired  by  the  idea  that  these  very  conspirators 
might  be  the  instruments  of  his  ambition.  They  felt  cer- 
tain of  success  in  the  Legations  and  Pieduiont;  they  had 
a  fighting  chance  in  Lombardy  and  Tuscany :  by  collusion 
with  tliem,  therefore,  he  might  in  a  few  months  become 
the  sovereign  of  the  larger  part  of  Northern  and  Central 
Italy.  Once  established  in  so  important  a  kingdom,  could 
he  not  rule  according  to  liis  favorite  metliods  ?  Tlie  Ab- 
solutist Powers,  especially  Austria,  would  doubtless  ob- 
ject, but  he  woidd  persuade  them  that  the  system  to  which 
they  clung  was  safe  in  his  hands,  and  that  the  peace  of 


THE   REVOLUTIONS   OF   1831.  351 

Italy  could  be  secured  only  by  uniting  under  him  the  gov- 
ernment of  the  several  turbulent  States. 

That  considerations  such  as  these  may  have  induced 
Francis  to  connive  with  the  Liberals  seems  at  least  plau- 
sible ;  but  it  is  more  difficult  to  suggest  why  the  Liberals 
accepted  him  as  a  confederate.^  None  knew  better  than 
they  his  tyrannical  nature ;  none  had  more  cause  to  sus- 
pect the  sincerity  of  his  conversion  to  Liberalism.  One 
fact,  however,  is  plain:  a  considerable  body  of  the  rev- 
olutionists still  attached  great  weight,  in  spite  of  the 
defection  of  Charles  Albert  in  1821,  to  the  prestige  that 
would  accrue  t©  their  movement  from  the  c()(')peration 
of  a  legitimate  prince.  If  they  succeeded  in  their  en- 
terprise, they  could  disarm  the  indignation  of  tlie  Holy 
Alliance  by  pointing  to  their  leader  as  a  sovereign  whom 
the  Alliance  itself  had  deemed  worthy  to  rule.  It  may 
be  that  they  were  far-sighted  enough  to  perceive  that  the 
first  step  towards  tlu;  complete  independence  of  Italy  must 
be  the  fusion  of  as  many  of  the  small  provinces  as  pos- 
sil)le  under  one  government:  that  ac(*om})lished,  should 
Francis  prove  ungrateful  to  the  forces  which  had  raised 
him,  they  could  depose  him  and  set  up  such  an  adminis- 
tration, whether  monarchical  or  republican,  as  the  major- 
ity preferred.  Perhaps  they  meant  to  use  him  only  as  a 
decoy  for  drawing  as  many  of  the  aristocracy  as  they 
could  into  their  net.  I'erhaps  they  hoped  to  discredit  nil 
the  Italian  despots  in  the  eyes  of  Kuroix-,  by  .  howing 
that  Francis,  tlie  most  des])otic  of  them  all,  coidd  be  lured 
into  coni])licity  with  the  rebels  whom  he  ])rofessed  to  hate. 
What(^ver  may  have  l)een  their  motive,  history  teaches 
this  general  truth:  ambitions  rulers  and  zealous  conspira- 
tors are  never  scrupulous  in  the  choice  of  tools  by  whi<h 
they  exp(M't  to  attain  tln'ir  i'ud:  uo  stone  is  too  dirty  t» 
serve  them  in  rising:  no  briar  too  thorny  to  be  clulchcd 
to  save  them  from  falling. 

'  IJiaiichi  in  liin  Diinifi  l-'sli^nsi  <!iili'  Attno  I^^IT)  dl  1S.")()  (Turin,  I^^.'iL'), 
p^ives  a  detailed  account  of  thi.s  whole  aifair. 


852  THE   DAWN   OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

Whatever  the  terms  of  their  union,  then,  by  the  close 
of  the  year  1830  Francis  and  the  revohitionists  were 
known  to  be  united.  The  Duke  had  taken  Giro  Menotti, 
the  leader  of  the  Modenese  conspirators,  into  his  friend- 
ship, and  those  who  were  not  in  the  secret  could  easily 
g;uess  the  purpose  of  Menotti's  frequent  visits  to  the  Ducal 
Palace.  One  other  actor  in  the  drama  deserves  mention, 
a  certain  Misley,  who  seems  even  earlier  than  Menotti  to 
have  won  the  Duke's  confidence,  and  who  was  now  em- 
ployed as  intermediaiy  between  Modena  and  the  Cosmo- 
politan Committee  at  Paris.  He  sent  reports  of  the  for- 
wardness of  the  preparations  there,  and  of  the  sympathy 
which  Louis  Philippe's  ministers  expressed  for  the  Italian 
cause.  Menotti  went  on  missionary  journeys  into  Tus- 
cany and  the  Legations,  inciting  the  Liberals  to  rise,  and 
concerting  tlie  final  details  of  the  plot.  He  was  most 
urgent,  too,  that  the  Piedmontese  should  revolt  at  the 
appointed  day,  and  that  they  should  decide  to  join  the 
revolutionary  union. ^  The  Duke's  sister,  Maria  Theresa, 
queen-dowager  of  Piedmont,  was  also  busily  renewing 
her  endeavors  to  secure  the  Piedmontese  throne  for  Fran- 
cis, on  the  death,  now  imminent,  of  Charles  Felix.  In 
France,  William  Pepe,  with  the  connivance  of  Lafayette, 
had  enrolled  a  thousand  volunteers,  with  whom  he  was 
to  embark  at  Marseilles  and  make  a  descent  on  Sicily. 
Large  stores  of  weapons  and  ammunition  were  to  be 
sliipped  by  way  of  Corsica  to  the  Tuscan  coast,  where 
trusty  agents  would  attend  to  their  distribution. ^  Never 
before  had  Italian  conspirators  seemed  so  well  justified  in 
reckoning  upon  victory. 

What,  then,  had  been  the  cause  of  the  change  in  Fran- 
cis's attitude  towards  the  great  enterprise,  as  referred  to 
in  the  following  note  from  Menotti  to  Misley,  dated  at 
Modena,  January  7,  1831?  '"I  arrive  in  this  moment 
from  Bologna.      I  have  to  tell  you  that  the  Duke  is  a 

1  Pog-gi,  ii,  6.  2  Cantu,  ii,  269. 


THE  REVOLUTIONS   OF   1831.  353 

regular  rascal.  I  have  run  serious  peril  of  being  killed. 
The  Duke  has  sjiread  reports  through  the  Sanfedists  that 
you  and  I  are  paid  agents  to  form  centres  and  then  betray 
them.  This  was  so  strongly  believed  at  Bologna,  that  I 
just  missed  being  assassinated.  The  fact  is,  that  in  eight 
days  the  entire  Komagna  had  turned  against  me,  but  it 
will  come  back.  .  .  .  Now  that  I  know  I  am  regarded  as 
an  agent  of  the  Duke,  I  will  act  with  such  prudence  that 
I  shall  attain  my  goal  without  breaking  my  promises."^ 

Mystery  upon  mystery!  The  Duke  already  plays  a 
double  game,  in  sjjite  of  which  Menotti  still  hopes  to 
bind  both  the  slippery  Duke  and  the  susjjicious  conspira- 
tors! These  are  bad  omens  on  the  very  eve  of  an  enter- 
prise for  whose  success  harmony  and  mutual  trust  are 
indispensable.  Prudence  whispers  to  abandon  the  plot 
whose  issue  must  be  disastrous ;  but  to  Menotti  such  whis- 
perings seem  not  prudent  but  cowardly,  lie  is  a  man 
whose  handsome  face  and  commanding  person  bespeak  a 
fearless,  self-confident  nature ;  and  there  is  in  him  a  dash 
of  recklessness,  as  the  stories  about  his  desperate  amours 
show;  above  all,  he  is  only  thirty-two,  and  burns  with 
patriotic  ambition.  The  Duke's  defection,  therefore,  can- 
not frigliton  him. 

More  than  five  months  had  elapsed  since  Louis  Pliilippe 
had  been  lifted  l)y  the  wave  of  revolution  into  the  Frciicli 
throne.  He  had  ]>la(^ated  the  neighboring  monarchs  and 
repudiated  in  ])rivate  to  them  the  means  of  liis  elevation. 
Nevertheless,  his  ministers  still  parroted  the  Orleanist 
watchword  of  "non-intervention."  It  was  high  time 
tliat  the  Italians  should  rise,  iniless,  indeed,  they  had 
realized  that  the  lucky  moment  for  rising  had  slipped  by. 
They  had  delayed  at  first  inordt^rto  perfect  their  arrange- 
ments at  home ;  then  they  had  waited  for  assurance  that 

^  Pof^-i^-i,  ii,  (5;  set!  also  Hiaiiclii,  Dwiiti  Kstrusi.  i,  ."iO.  Hiaiulii  attril)- 
utes  the  Duke's  cliaii;;-*'  of  face  to  his  discovery  that  Louis  Philippe  would 
not  support  the  revolution. 


354  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

the  Spaniards  were  ready ;  now  the  news  came  from  the 
Paris  Committee  that  everything  was  prejsared,  and  they 
might  strike.  The  5th  of  February  was  fixed  upon  as 
the  fateful  day.  But  the  Duke  of  Modena's  insinuations 
had  sunk  into  the  hearts  of  the  Romagnoles,  who  bluntly 
informed  Menotti  that  they  distrusted  him,  and  that  each 
province  must  rebel  on  its  own  account.  Menotti,  still 
undismayed,  gave  the  last  directions  to  his  Modenese 
confederates ;  yet  a  few  days,  and  events  would  prove  how 
unjust  were  the  suspicions  against  him. 

On  February  3  the  Duke  ordered  the  arrest  of  Nicho- 
las Fulvizi  and  the  banishment  of  Generals  Fontanelli 
and  Zucchi,  who  were  involved  in  the  conspiracy;  but, 
as  if  he  still  shrank  from  breaking  irrevocably  with 
the  party  which  might  fulfil  his  dream  of  kingship,  he 
left  Menotti,  the  chief  conspirator,  unmolested.  The 
latter,  believing  that  to  wait  longer  might  defeat  their 
undertaking,  hastily  arranged  that  the  signal  for  the 
insurrection  should  be  given  at  midnight.  That  evening 
about  fifteen  consjDirators  assembled  at  his  palace  for  the 
final  instructions;  while  they  were  concerting,  a  traitor 
sneaked  away  and  revealed  the  plot  to  the  police.  Pres- 
ently a  squad  of  gendarmes  appeared  at  Menotti 's  palace 
and  attempted  to  enter,  but  the  conspirators  defended 
themselves  so  hotly  that  their  assailants  withdrew.  Then, 
after  a  brief  quiet,  during  which  hope  ran  high,  the  Duke 
himself,  accompanied  by  a  strong  force  of  soldiers  and  one 
small  cannon,  marched  into  the  square.  From  behind  a 
pillar,  he  directed  the  bombardment  of  the  conspirators' 
nest.  They  returned  the  fire,  until  their  ammunition 
failed,  when  they  had  to  surrender.  Menotti,  wounded 
in  the  skirmish,  was  carried  off  by  the  Duke,  who  a  few 
hours  later  sent  to  the  Governor  of  Reggio  this  famous 
dispatch:  "To-night  a  terrible  plot  has  burst  against  me. 
The  conspirators  are  in  my  hands.  Seyid  me  the  exeai- 
t loner."     But  before  even  so  prompt  an  avenger  as  Fran- 


THE   REVOLUTIONS   OF    1831.  355 

cis  could  huiTy  his  prisoners  to  the  scaffold,  the  news 
reached  him  that  the  Pope's  subjects  were  in  revolt, 
and  that  the  neighboring  Bolognese  were  marching  oi\ 
Modena  to  rescue  Menotti  and  his  fellow  -  conspirators. 
Without  waiting  for  the  confirmation  of  this  report, 
Francis,  in  alarm,  on  February  5,  retired  to  Mantua, 
whence  he  sought  protection  from  the  Austrians.  In  his 
Hight  he  took  Menotti  with  him,  some  said  to  be  a  hostage 
to  deter  the  Modenese  rebels  from  wreaking  vengeance 
on  the  ducal  partisans  who  were  left  behind;  others  said 
to  prevent  Menotti  from  disclosing  secrets  which  would 
have  made  the  Duke  as  intolerable  to  Austria  as  he  was 
now  odious  to  the  Italians. 

The  revolution  had,  in  fact,  broken  out  on  February  4 
in  the  Papal  States.  At  Bologna,  bauds  of  excited  cit- 
izens fdled  the  air  with  shouts  of  "Liberty  and  Inde- 
pendence;" and  when  the  police  remonstrated,  they 
showed  a  disposition  to  reinforce  their  shouts  with  vio- 
lence. The  Prolegate,  being  informed  by  the  commander 
of  the  gendarmerie  and  the  commander  of  the  garrison 
that  their  men  could  not  be  relied  upon  to  quell  an  out- 
l)reak,  called  a  conference  of  nobles  of  reputed  loyalty. 
They,  too,  advised  against  measures  wliich  would  provoke 
a  civil  war  at  a  crisis  in  whicli  the  government  was  evi- 
dently weaker  than  its  opponents;  but  they  were  willing, 
if  the  Prolegate  deemed  it  expedient  to  hasten  to  Rome 
for  instructions,  to  undertake  to  jjrcserve  oi-der  in  his 
absence.  Accoi'dingly,  on  the  next  day  he  a[)pointed  a 
Tem})()rary  Commission,  and  dej)arte(l.  There  was  no 
l)l()()d  s})illed,  uov  so  much  as  a  broken  head. 

As  when,  on  a  given  day  in  early  sining.  nil  the  almond 
orcliards  in  th(!  same  l)elt  of  sunshine  hurst  into  blossom, 
so  along  the  Adriatiir  coast  town  after  town  ])edecked 
itself  with  the  tricolor  flags  and  joyous  as])ect  of  Fi'eedom. 
Iniola  and  Facnza  ficed  themselves  without  a  stiugL;le; 
at  Parma,  Maria  Louisa  found  that  hi-r  subjects  would 


356  THE   DAWN   OP   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

fight  rather  than  give  up  the  holiday  of  independence  on 
which  they  had  set  their  hearts,  so  she  quitted  her  little 
capital  and  left  them  to  their  merry-making ;  at  Ferrara, 
the  presence  of  the  Austrian  garrison  did  not  hinder  the 
formation  of  a  Provisional  Government  composed  of 
Liberals;  at  Forli,  as  at  Ravenna,  there  was  a  brief  con- 
test between  the  revolutionists  and  the  ecclesiastical  gov- 
ernor, and  in  both  cases  the  prelate  withdrew ;  at  Pesaro, 
the  National  Guards,  throwing  away  the  papal  banner  and 
setting  up  the  tricolor,  elected  Sercognani,  a  veteran  of 
the  Napoleonic  wars,  to  command  them,  and  under  his 
leadership  they  marched  gayly  southward,  till  they  had 
opened  the  gates  of  all  the  cities  and  towns  as  far  as 
Spoleto  to  the  harbingers  of  Liberty.  It  seemed  as  if 
the  inhabitants  of  Emilia  and  the  Roman  State  were  cel- 
ebrating some  national  festival,  or  had  given  themselves 
up  to  the  sweet  transports  of  a  general  joy,  rather  than 
that  they  were  engaged  in  so  grave  and  perilous  a  busi- 
ness as  an  attempt  to  shake  ojBf  the  yoke  of  immemorial 
tyranny.  Success  so  instantaneous  and  so  easy  might 
well  instil  forebodings  into  sober  hearts,  if  there  were 
such,  as  they  reflected  that  the  blessings  which  the  gods 
grant  quickly  they  quickly  recall. 

But  surely,  we  exclaim,  even  a  blear-eyed  and  palsied 
government  like  that  of  the  Vatican  must  have  had  ink- 
lings of  the  impending  danger  and  must  have  made  some 
effort  to  avert  it.  As  with  decrepit  old  men,  so  with 
decrepit  rvders,  —  their  tenacity  of  life  often  increases  in 
proportion  as  their  vitality  wanes.  Had  those  aged 
Papalists  lost  their  passion  for  dominion,  the  primal  in- 
stinct of  the  Papacy?  Would  they  wrap  their  purple 
cloaks  round  them,  and  calmly  await  death,  as  ancient 
Romans  had  once  awaited  Brennus  and  his  barbarians  in 
the  Senate  House?  Or  did  they  think  to  exorcise  the 
Demon  of  Revolution  by  droning  masses  and  sprinkling 
holy  water?     No,   none  of  these  things  was  true  of  the 


THE   KEVOLUTIONS   OF   1831.  357 

Boman  hierarchy :  it  was  weak,  but  not  resigned ;  it  was 
hard-pressed,  but  it  would  concede  nothing. 

The  insurrection  had  beset  it  at  an  embarrassing  cri- 
sis. On  November  30,  1830,  Pius  VIII,  a  paralytic  old 
gentleman,  who  had  succeeded  Leo  XII  in  the  previous 
year,  died,  and  the  interregnum  which  ensued  had  been 
seized  upon  by  the  conspirators  as  a  heaven-sent  occasion 
for  achieving  their  plans.  The  Conclave  dragged  on 
through  many  weeks,  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  plotters, 
and  to  the  disgust  of  the  Roman  shopkeejjers  and  land- 
lords, who  were  thereby  deprived  of  the  profits  they 
always  reaped  during  the  Carnival  season.  The  factions 
in  the  Sacred  College  fought  stubbornly,  for  in  these  lat- 
ter days  the  Conclave  must  select  not  only  a  pope  agree- 
able to  the  Catholic  Powers,  but  also  a  secretary  of  state, 
this  dignitary  having  become  a  personage  of  greater  in- 
fluence than  the  Pope  himself.  Indeed,  so  jealously  is 
the  Holy  Father  guarded,  he  can  only  know  what  his 
chief  minister  chooses  to  report  to  him,  and  his  official 
acts,  therefore,  are  often  merely  echoes  of  the  policy 
thrust  upon  him  by  his  advisers.  In  the  Conclave  of 
1830-31,  Cardinal  Albani,  Austria's  faithful  minion, 
was  bent  on  defeating  every  candidate  who  would  not 
promise  to  appoint  him  to  the  secretaryship  of  State; 
and  for  nearly  two  months  there  was  such  a  conflict  of 
jealousies,  vvrangliiigs,  underhand  intrigues  and  deceits 
as  prevented  an  ele(!tion.  Finally,  on  February  1  the 
secrecy  of  the  Conclave  was  violated  by  the  clandestine 
introduction  of  a  letter  from  the  Duke  of  jVIodena,  in 
which  lie  informed  the  Cardinals  tliat  a  revolution  was 
about  to  exj)lo(le,  and  he  urged  them,  if  tliey  would  save 
their  country  from  dtistruetion,  to  agree  immediately  upt)n 
a  pope.  Thus  alarmed,  on  tlie  following  day  tliey  elected 
Cardinal  Cappellari,  wlio  took  the  name  Gregory  XVI, 
and  made  Cardinal  Benietti  liis  premier.^ 

1  liianchi,  iii,  21M2. 


358  THE    DAWN   OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

Three  days  later  the  new  Pope  had  tidings  of  the  in- 
surrection in  Modena  and  the  Legations.  Every  succes- 
sive courier  brought  gloomier  reports,  and  erelong  the 
fugitive  prolegates  and  ousted  governors  came  panting 
and  frightened  into  Rome,  to  spread  panic  among  the 
ecclesiastics  and  joy  among  the  Liberals.  The  Papal 
ministry  saw  that  it  could  neither  put  down  the  rebel- 
lious provinces,  nor  defend  the  Holy  City  itself,  should 
the  insurgents  attack  it  from  without,  or  their  confeder- 
ates within  rise  in  a  body.  Terror-stricken,  Gregory 
secretly  besought  the  King  of  Naples  to  lend  him  some 
Swiss  regiments  in  order  that  the  Vatican  at  least  might 
be  protected;  but  the  young  King,  Ferdinand  II,  who 
had  succeeded  his  father  Francis  on  November  8,  1830, 
refused  the  demand,  either  because  he  feared  an  outbreak 
among  his  own  subjects,  or  because  he  did  not  wish  to 
give  offense  to  his  uncle,  Louis  Philippe.  The  Pope 
also  wrote  to  the  Austrian  emperor,  not  officially  asking 
aid, — for  he  trembled  at  the  French  shibboleth,  "non- 
intervention,"—  but  painting  the  situation  of  the  Papal 
States  in  colors  so  lurid,  that  Austria  might  be  moved  of 
her  own  accord  to  hasten  to  his  rescue.^  If  Austria  took 
the  hint,  he  could  wash  his  hands  of  responsibility  for 
any  quarrel  between  her  and  France.  To  his  "best  be- 
loved subjects"  he  addressed  an  edict,  February  9,  in 
which  he  assured  them  that  he  was  only  solicitous  of 
their  welfare;  he  chid  them  gently  for  allowing  them- 
selves to  be  led  astray  at  a  moment  when  the  Holy  See 
was  vacant,  but  he  promised  them  "pity  and  pardon,'' 
and  to  interpose  his  prayers  between  them  and  God's 
punishment  if  they  showed  their  penitence  by  immediate 
submission.^  As  well  might  he  have  expected  to  dispel 
an  epidemic  of  cholera  by  proclamation ! 

The   insurgents,  reveling  in  their  easy  victory  and  still 

1  Bianchi  iii,  49 ;  Pogg-i,  ii,  18-20. 

2  Text  in  Gualterio :    Ultiini  Rivolgimenti  Ilaliani  (2d  edit.),  i,  309-12, 


THE  BEV0LUTI0N8   OF   1831.  359 

guiltless  of  bloody  excesses,  applied  themselves  without 
delay  to  the  task  of  giving  their  provisional  governments 
a  permanent  form.  At  Bologna,  on  February  8,  it  was 
decreed  that  the  temporal  dominion  of  the  Pope  over  that 
city  and  province,  having  ceased  in  fact,  should  never 
more  be  recognized  in  law,  and  that  a  general  election 
should  be  held  to  choose  deputies.^  The  tribunals  were 
remodeled  after  the  French  system,  and  a  new  tariff  of 
taxes  was  drawn  up.  General  Zucchi  hurried  to  take 
command  of  the  disaffected  troops  at  Modena.  In  order 
not  to  excite  the  hostility  of  the  Orleanist  monarchy, 
Louis  Bonaparte,  the  putative  son  of  the  ex-King  of  Hol- 
land, and  his  elder  brother  Charles,  who  had  for  montlis 
past  furnished  money  for  the  revolution,  and  had  person- 
ally contributed  to  its  success,  were  induced  to  retire 
from  Bologna  to  Forli,  where  Charles  died  soon  after- 
ward.^ The  Bolognese  also  dispatched  envoys  into  Tus- 
cany, to  assure  the  Grand  Duke  that  they  had  no  in- 
tention of  molesting  him,  and  incidentally  to  urge  the 
Tuscan  Liberals  to  strike  for  liberty.  The  manifestoes 
launched  by  the  Papal  Secretary  of  State,  as  a  boy 
launches  paper  boats  on  a  ripjded  pool,  scarcely  attracted 
tlie  attention  of  the  insurgents,  although  they,  as  parti- 
sans of  "felony  and  irreligion,"  were  therein  threatened 
with  exconmiunication.  And  wlien  (Cardinal  Benvenuti, 
charged  with  ])lenary  ]M)wers,  risked  liiniself  in  the  rebel- 
lious provinces,  lu'  was  taki'ii  ])i-is()ncr  and  conveyed  to 
Ancona.  For  a  l)rief  tinu^  there  was  unwonted  blithe- 
heartedness  among  the  Italian  revolutionists,  for  tliey  ])ut 
faith  in  the  Fi-eiich  doctrine  of  non-intervention,  and  they 
had  no  misgivings  but  tliat,  if  undistui-bed  by  Austria, 
they  could  constitute  and  maintain  a  Liberal  government 
in  CtMitral  Italy. 

Vain  was  their  conildence!  (U'lusive  were  their  ho})es! 

'  T.'xt.  ill  Gualtprio,  i,  .312. 
■'  r..{,-j,'i,  ii,  17-18. 


360  THE   DAWN   OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

Non-intervention  might  be  declared  by  France,  but  would 
the  other  Powers  respect  it?  Metternich  could  neither 
be  fooled  nor  frightened  by  a  mere  phrase,  and,  even 
before  the  Italian  revolt,  he  had  penetrated  the  artifices 
of  Louis  Philippe  and  his  ministers.  To  make  France 
ridiculous  by  carrying  out  Austria's  immemorial  policy, 
in  spite  of  French  bravado,  was  henceforth  his  purpose. 
Therefore,  on  March  5,  General  Frimont,  the  Austrian 
commander  in  Northern  Italy,  began  operations  against 
Modena.  Metternich  was  already  sure  of  Russia's  con- 
sent to  his  intervention,  and  he  did  not  fear  England, 
who  limited  herself  to  expressing  the  opinion  that  the 
outbreak  in  the  Papal  States  was  due  to  the  evil  govern- 
ment, and  that  she  would  have  preferred  that  pacific 
negotiations  had  been  exhausted  before  forcible  repression 
was  resorted  to.^  In  his  messages  to  the  French  Cabi- 
net, the  Austrian  chancellor  insisted  that  his  only  desire 
was  to  check  anarchy,  and  he  did  not  spare  vague  hints 
that,  if  the  Orleanist  king  continued  to  cherish  the  rev- 
olutionary viper,  he  might  discover,  too  late,  that  his 
nxirsling  was  of  the  Napoleonic  brood.  "We  know  that 
the  movement  in  Italy  is  a  Bonapartist  one,"  said  he. 
"We  are  resolved  to  resist  it.  The  Emperor  owes  so 
much  to  his  Empire,  and  to  all  that  is  yet  left  standing 
in  Europe.  By  this  determination  we  at  the  same  time 
render  the  most  signal  service  to  King  Louis  Philippe. 
If,  on  the  simplest  showing,  there  was  an  incompatibility 
between  his  existence  and  that  of  a  subordinate  member 
of  the  Bonapartist  family  on  a  throne  contiguous  to  weak 
and  feeble  France,  how  much  more  real  does  that  incom- 
patibility become  in  view  of  an  Italy  placed  beneath  the 
sceptre  of  Napoleon  II?  Yet  this  is  the  direct  object  of 
the  party  of  anarchy  against  which  we  are  still  strug- 
gling." ^  The  presence  of  Charles  and  Louis  Bonaparte 
in  the  Romagna;  the  recent  attempt  to  abduct  Napoleon 

^  Bianchi,  iii,  52-3.  ^  Memoirs,  v,  104. 


THE   REVOLUTIONS   OF    1831.  361 

II  from  Vienna,  with  the  view  to  proclaiming  him  king 
at  Rome ;  ^  and  the  expected  descent  of  Aehille  Murat 
upon  the  Kingdom  of  Naples,  ^  naturally  gave  a  semblance 
of  truth  to  the  assertion  that  the  Italian  movement  was 
only  an  ill-disguised  Bonapartist  plot.  Metternich  went 
even  so  far  as  to  intimate  that  Austria,  if  driven  to  bay, 
might  release  Napoleon  II,  and  use  him  as  a  lever  for  over- 
throwing the  July  monarchy ;  ^  for  the  Napoleonist  infat- 
uation was  growing  stronger  in  France,  and  the  presence 
of  the  son  of  the  Great  Emperor  might  suffice  to  render 
it  irresistible.  Louis  Philippe  needed  not  these  disagree- 
able reminders  that  his  throne  was  founded  on  quick- 
sands ;  at  heart,  he  had  no  other  desire  than  to  be  allowed 
to  establish  his  dynasty  by  exterminating  Bonapartist  and 
Bourbon  enemies  at  home;  but  he  was  entangled  in  a 
dilemma,  and  he  had  neither  the  strength  nor  the  sincer- 
ity to  escape  from  it. 

Meanwhile,  into  the  midst  of  this  whirl  of  wordy  chaff 
Metternich  had  thrown  his  blunt,  solid  fact:  Austria, 
flouting  the  principle  of  non-intervention,  was  actually 
stifling  the  rebellion  in  Central  Italy.  But  French 
national  dignity,  always  sensitive  and  (piick  to  impute 
insult,  and  French  glory,  always  insatiate  and  never 
squeamish  about  the  food  provided  for  it,  —  liow  would 
Louis  Pliilippe  reckon  with  them?  To  C\isimir  Fcrier, 
now  President  of  the  Ministry,  fell  the  task  of  juggling 
with  these  inconvenient  elements  of  Frencli  ])ubli('  opin- 
ion. "I  do  not  believe,"  he  said  to  the  Chanibei-  of  Dep- 
uties, "that  France  shoidd  hold  herself  ])le(l^ed  to  carry 
her  arms  whithersoever  the  ])rin('iple  of  non-intervention 
may  be  violated.  Where  this  wei(^  done,  there  would 
arise  a  new  kind  of  intervention;  tlie  pi-etensions  of  the 
Holy  Alliance  would  be  resuscitated;  we  shouhl  fall  a 
j)rey  to  the  ehimerieal  ambition  of  all  those  who  wished 
to  subject  Fur()])e  to  the  yoke  of  a  single  idea  and  to 
1  Bi.'inchi.  iii,  ;5:;;;.  -'  /6iVA  .■;;;i-i2.  «  ibi<i,-'Ur>. 


362  THE   DAWN   OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

vitalize  universal  monarchy.  Understood  in  that  fashion, 
the  principle  of  non-intervention  would  serve  as  a  spur 
to  the  spirit  of  conquest.  We  shall  uphold  that  princi- 
ple everywhere  by  means  of  negotiation;  but  only  the  in- 
terest and  dignity  of  France  could  induce  us  to  draw  our 
sword.  We  do  not  recognize  in  any  people  the  right  to 
lead  us  to  fight  for  its  cause ;  the  blood  of  the  French  be- 
longs to  France  alone."  ^  This  official  elucidation  of  the 
meaning  of  the  chief  dogma  of  the  July  monarchy  was 
unexpected,  but  being  spoken  with  authority,  it  must  be 
orthodox.  Nevertheless,  there  were  many  French  Radi- 
cals whom  the  interpretation  dissatisfied,  and  who  did  not 
hesitate  to  accuse  the  government  of  allowing  the  honor 
of  France  to  be  smirched. 

To  appease  these  grumblers,  Perier,  at  the  very  mo- 
ment in  which  he  was  secretly  informing  Austria  that 
"France  would  in  no  wise  suffer  the  overturn  of  the  tem- 
jjoral  power  of  the  Pope,"^  dispatched  Count  Sainte- 
Aulaire  on  a  special  mission  to  Rome,  to  induce  the  Pope 
to  get  rid  of  the  Austrian  troops  as  soon  as  possible. 
Metternich,  who  had  already  secvired  his  twofold  aim  of 
discrediting  the  priiiciple  of  non  -  intervention  and  of 
making  Austria  for  the  third  time  the  queller  of  Italian 
Liberalism,  professed  that  as  an  evidence  of  his  peaceful 
intention  he  would  consent  to  the  evacuation  of  all  the 
provinces  lately  in  revolt,  leaving  garrisons  only  in  An- 
cona  and  Bologna  until  such  time  as  the  Papal  govern- 
ment should  declare  itself  strong  enough  to  curb  another 
outbreak.  In  Rome,  Sainte  -  Aulaire  consulted  with 
representatives  of  Austria,  Prussia,  Russia,  England,  and 
Piedmont  concerning  the  reforms  which  should  be  recom- 
mended to  the  Pope  for  the  maintenance  of  order  among 
his  subjects.  In  participating  in  a  conference  whose 
object  was  to  meddle  with  the  internal  administration  of 
an  independent  sovereign,  France  thus  violated  her  own 
^  Biaiichi,  iii,  60.  _     ^  "  Ibid,  04. 


THE  REVOLUTIONS   OF   1831.  363 

principle  of  non-intervention ;  but  of  what  use  was  it  to 
charge  her  with  another  inconsistency?  As  well  blame 
a  weather-cock  for  fickleness.  The  Papal  government 
cordially  detested  the  officiousness  of  the  Great  Powers 
in  its  behalf,  but  lacking  material  vigor  to  oppose,  it 
poured  out  assurances  of  its  gratitude,  and  professed  to 
be  willing  to  be  guided  by  its  troublesome  friends.  At 
length  a  Memorandum  was  drawn  up,  and  signed  by  all 
the  envoys,  except  the  English,  who  had  declared  that 
the  only  way  to  establish  permanent  reforms  was  to  secu- 
larize the  papal  administration,  and  who  now  declined  to 
guarantee  the  temporal  power  of  the  Papacy.^  The  Aus- 
trian garrisons  had  lingered  on,  in  spite  of  the  secret  ex- 
hortations of  Sainte-Aulaire,  and  the  French  ministers 
at  Paris  had  more  and  more  difficulty  in  kee])ing  up  their 
bombastic  role.  Only  a  little  while  ago  they  had  put  on 
a  fierce  and  martial  scowl,  and  warned  Austria  that  she 
must  immediately  evacuate  the  States  of  the  Church,  or 
take  the  consecpiences ;  now,  with  equal  robustiousness, 
they  warned  her  that,  if  she  dared  to  interfere  in  Pied- 
mont, they  would  let  slij)  the  Gallic  war-dogs  upon  her. 
Since  there  was  no  reason  for  her  to  meddle  in  Piedmont, 
however,  the  latter  threat  could  have  served  no  other 
pur])ose  than  to  make  IVIetternicli  laugh.  In  his  own 
good  time,  about  the  middle  of  July,  he  ordered  the 
Austrian  regiments  out  of  the  Legations;  in  so  doing,  he 
announced  that  it  was  the  determination  of  Emperor 
Fi'imeis  to  resjxnul  to  any  future  api)eals  for  aid  that  the 
Holy  Father  might  send.'- 

Austria,  luiving  with  impunity  bedeviled  the  Freiicli 
pet  formula,  and  having  given  notice  that  she  would  (h) 
so  again,  the  international  phase  of  th<'  Italian  revolt 
seemed  to  be  concluded:  it  only  remained  for  the  Freni-h 
CVbini't  to  expound  the  transaction  in  smdi  wise  as  to 
conunend  it  and  themselves  to  their  fidlow-counti-ymen. 
'  Bianchi,  iii,  W).  -  MotU'riiioh,  v,  1 1'.».  TJl. 


364  THE   DAWN   OF   ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

M.  Perier,  as  wizard-in-chief  to  Louis  Philippe,  was  the 
first  to  conjure  up  for  the  edification  of  the  French 
Chamber  a  phantom  of  victory  from  the  dispatches  and 
blue-books  which  contained  full  evidence  of  the  snubs, 
rebuffs,  and  defeats  which  his  diplomacy  had  suffered 
at  the  hands  of  Metternich.  "Romagna  has  been  paci- 
fied," Perier  began.  "That  feeble  insurrection  which 
could  not  liberate  her  was  not  able  to  drag  her  down 
with  itself  in  its  oppression.  Thanks  to  our  negotiations, 
useful  reforms  have  been  in  part  assured.  What  more 
was  there  to  do?  When  our  government  was  formed, 
the  Italian  events  were  already  imder  way.  We  found 
the  Duchy  of  Modena  already  occupied  by  the  Austrians ; 
they  were  already  on  the  road  to  Romagna.  We  then 
promised  that,  even  though  they  penetrated,  they  should 
not  occupy  that  province.  The  promise  made  has  been 
maintained.  Italy  breathes  again,  and  but  for  us  she 
would  by  this  time  be  the  theatre  of  sanguinary  reactions. 
These  are  facts,  gentlemen,  which  attest  that,  but  for 
France  and  but  for  what  she  did,  the  States  of  the  Holy 
See  would  be  now  covered  by  a  foreign  soldiery,  by  pro- 
scriptions, by  confiscations.  France  spared  Italy  the 
most  grievous  consequences  of  an  abortive  attempt,  and 
universal  peace  is  assured."^  Marshal  Sebastiani  also 
tried  to  extract  glory  out  of  insult,  like  the  philosophical 
gentleman  who  proposed  to  extract  sunbeams  out  of  cu- 
cumbers. "I  appeal  to  your  consciences,  to  your  jus- 
tice," said  he  to  the  deputies,  "to  know  if  we  have  not 
fulfilled  all  our  duties,  and  if  the  honor  of  France  has 
not  remained  intact  in  the  negotiations  concerning  Italy?  " 
Even  the  King,  in  his  speech  from  the  throne,  expatiated 
on  the  noble  achievements  won  by  his  diplomacy;  but 
Cardinal  Bernetti,  in  republishing  the  royal  address, 
gave  the  lie  to  some  of  its  falsehoods,  nor  would  he  re- 
tract, when  requested  to  do  so  by  the  French  ambassador.^ 
1  Bianchi,  iii,  91-2.  2  jj^vZ,  93. 


THE  REVOLUTIONS  OF  1831.  365 

This,  then,  was  the  humiliating  collapse  of  the  bubble 
of  non-intervention  which  the  Orleanist  ministers  blew 
skywards,  proclaiming  that  it  should  henceforth  be  as  a 
sun  to  illumine  European  diplomacy.  The  French  had 
neither  hindered  Austria's  armed  interference  in  Central 
Italy,  nor  compelled  her  to  withdraw  a  day  earlier  than 
she  was  willing:  whether  their  strutting  policy  detei-red 
her  from  annexing  the  Legations  —  a  dream  she  was 
supposed  to  cherish  —  is  doubtful,  because  there  is  no 
evidence  that  she  then  deemed  the  time  ripe  for  that  act 
of  aggrandizement. 

The  Orleans  monarchy,  so  shuffling  and  uncandid,  as 
we  have  seen,  could  wriggle  out  of  its  humiliation,  but 
the  Italian  Liberals,  who  had  staked  their  lives  on  the 
assimiption  that  the  principle  of  non-intervention  would 
be  upheld,  had  no  evasive  phrase  in  which  to  disguise 
their  defeat,  nor  noble  memories  to  sweeten  their  regret 
and  inspire  fresh  liope.  They  had  sim})ly  over-trusted, 
and  they  had  been  duped.  We  have  no  need  to  follow 
the  path  of  the  Austrian  invasion  which  swept  down  their 
provisional  governments  like  card  -  houses.  An  occa- 
sional resistance,  a  skirmisli  at  Kimini,  a  last  stand  at 
Ancona,  proved  that  the  Liberal  recruits  did  not  lack 
bravery;  but  could  bravery  without  discipline  avail,  wlien 
one  man  was  pitted  against  five  or  ten?  The  great  b(Kly 
of  revolutionists  therefore  sul)mitted,  while  a  few  score 
of  their  leaders,  fearing  the  Pope's  vengeance,  took  ship 
for  Corfu,  but  being  captui'e<l  by  an  Austrian  man-of- 
war,  they  were  conveyed  to  Venice,  and  conlhied  there  for 
si!veial  months. 

And  now  was  witnessed  the  usual  retinue  of  persecu- 
tions wliit'h  follow  unsuccessful  rebelliou.  In  the  States 
of  the  Church,  indeed,  tlie  retaliation  was  less  severe 
than  it  would  liave  been  had  not  the  repi'cseiitatives  of 
th(!  (ireat  Powers  been  still  at  Rome  suggesting  reforms 
which   the   Papal    government    promised    to    carry   out. 


366  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

Amnesty  was  granted  to  all  but  thirty -eight  of  the  fore- 
most rebels,  but  there  were  many  ways  by  which  the  gov- 
ernment could  show  its  real  temper  towards  amnestied 
insurgents  without  directly  torturing  them,  and  these 
ways  it  employed.  The  police  pestered  the  suspects  with 
exasperating  restrictions,  and  the  Sanfedists,  sure  of  offi- 
cial sympathy,  renewed  their  bullying  irritation.  Above 
all,  the  Pope  refused  to  ratify  the  terms  to  which  Cardi- 
nal Benvenuti,  his  legate,  had  agreed  when  the  rebels 
capitulated ;  his  excuse  being,  that  since  the  Cardinal  had 
previously  been  a  prisoner,  any  compact  that  he  made 
was  vitiated  by  the  suspicion  that  it  had  been  forced  upon 
him. 

In  Modena  the  Duke  signalized  his  restoration  by  a 
repetition  of  cruelties  which  in  1822  had  horrified  Italy. 
Several  of  the  conspirators  were  condemned  to  death,  but 
the  sentence  was  executed  only  upon  Menotti  and  Borelli. 
As  Menotti  was  the  most  conspicuous  victim  of  the  rev- 
olution of  1831,  so  he  became  in  the  imagination,  not 
only  of  the  Modenese  but  of  all  Italians,  its  martyr-hero. 
The  mystery  wdiich  surrounded  his  relations  with  the 
Duke,  the  paradox  of  a  tyrant  joining  a  conspiracy  of 
Liberals,  the  perfidy  of  the  Duke,  and  the  )nanliness 
with  which  Menotti  died,  wove  legendary  veils  about  his 
memory,  so  that  it  is  impossible  even  now  for  the  histo- 
rian always  to  separate  myth  and  hearsay  from  fact.  That 
Francis  had  Menotti  executed  in  order  to  preclude  him 
from  revealing  momentous  secrets  was  generally  believed 
by  his  friends,  and  still  seems  probable.  Henceforth,  the 
Duchy  of  jVIodena  groaned  under  a  tyranny  which  left  no 
excuse  for  even  the  most  confiding  Liberal  to  imagine 
that  the  Duke  could  be  enticed  again  into  the  patriotic 
canij).  The  uncontested  succession  of  Charles  Albert  to 
the  throne  of  Piedmont,  April  2,  1831,  dashed  forever  the 
Duke's  ho])c  of  ruling  there,  whilst  reciait  events  could 
but  teach  him  the  folly  of  his  other  dreams  of  power. 


THE   REVOLUTIONS    OF    1831.  367 

Parma,  after  Maria  Louisa's  return,  showed  a  happy 
contrast  to  Modena,  no  one  being  persecuted  for  his  com- 
plicity in  the  hite  tumult.  In  Piedmont,  Tuscany,  and 
the  Two  Sicilies,  the  efforts  of  the  agitators  had  failed 
to  do  more  than  increase  the  anxiety,  and  therefore  the 
vigilance,  of  the  governments.  The  proposed  invasion 
of  Savoy,  the  landing  of  troops  and  munitions  on  the 
Tuscan  coast,  the  swoop  of  William  Pepe  and  his  legion 
on  Sicily,  the  descent  of  Murat's  son  on  Naples, — all 
those  brave  schemes  of  the  Paris  Committee  had  to  be 
abandoned,  owing  to  the  deceitfulness  of  the  French  gov- 
ernment. 

Yet  the  inhabitants  of  the  Papal  States  could  not,  in 
spite  of  the  flogging  Austria  had  given  them,  reconcile 
themselves  to  defeat.  Their  day  -  dream  had  been  too 
delightful  to  be  renounced,  their  chagrin  and  misery  were 
too  keen  to  be  borne  without  murmurs.  They  grew  des- 
perate, reckless,  and,  like  angry  children,  they  cared  not 
whether  they  were  whipped  again  or  not.  The  Austrian 
troops  had  hardly  been  withdrawn  before  it  became  evi- 
di'ut  that  the  Pope's  government  was  still  too  weak  to 
])reserve  order.  lie  reorganized  the  pontifical  army ;  he 
created  a  body  of  centurions;  he  appealed  to  loyal  subjects 
to  enroll  tliemselves  in  a  volunteer  corps ;  he  hired  two 
regiments  of  mercenaries  from  Switzerland,  —  that  stud 
of  (h*spi('ab](!  freemen, — and  yet  he  was  unal)le  to  sup- 
])ress  tlie  turbuleuts.  Duiing  the  autumn  of  18.'^!  Uo- 
magna  was  th(!  scent;  of  constant  broils  Ix'twccii  the  Pajial- 
ists  and  the  sectaries.  A  Civic  (iuai'd  took  ])()ssession 
of  several  of  the  towns,  aiul  undci-  the  plea  of  Liberty 
coniiiiittcd  outi-ages,  and  kejit  (h-cent  citizens  of  wliatcver 
party  in  a  state  of  tr('])i(latioii.  The  sectaries  sijuabhled 
among  tliemselves  and  manifested  that  thev  were  onlv 
strong  in  their  capacity  for  doin^-  liann.  The  Liherals 
wlio  had  led  the  pievious  revolution  and  who  had  gi\en 
to  it  a  worthy  ehara<'ter  if  not  victory,  being  now  in  exile, 


368  THE   DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

the  leadership  inevitably  fell  to  more  violent  and  less 
disinterested  men :  and  we  are  not  surprised  to  learn  that 
when,  at  the  request  of  Cardinal  Albani,  who  had  been 
sent  to  restore  order  and  had  failed,  the  Austrian  troops 
marched  back  into  Romagna  and  put  down  this  second 
revolt,  they  were  welcomed  by  all  respectable  Romagnoles 
as  the  extirpators  of  anarchy.  Then  Cardinal  Albani, 
having  the  foreign  army  to  support  him,  proceeded  to 
purge  the  country  by  drastic  measures  which  recalled  the 
severity  of  Rivarola.^ 

This  second  intervention  of  the  Austrians  revived  the 
diplomatic  controversy  of  the  preceding  spring.  The 
French  ministry,  by  its  shuffling  and  treachery,  had  in- 
curred the  detestation  of  the  Italian  Liberals,  whom  it 
had  duped,  and  of  the  French  Republicans  and  Imperial- 
ists, w^ho  still  smarted  at  the  thought  that  they  had  been 
the  cat's-paw  for  Louis  Philippe's  ambition.  Through- 
out the  autumn  of  1831  the  French  ministerial  policy 
was  aimed,  therefore,  at  conciliating  the  Great  Powers, 
by  assuring  them  that  France  ceded  to  none  in  her  desire 
to  uphold  the  temporal  administration  of  the  Pope,  and 
at  conciliating  the  rebellious  Romagnoles,  by  recognizing 
that  they  had  just  cause  for  complaining :  only,  before 
they  could  expect  France  to  interfere  in  their  behalf,  they 
must  lay  down  their  arms  and  submit  to  the  Pope's  au- 
thority. To  which  hot-and-cold  advice,  one  of  the  Lib- 
erals replied:  "How  can  confidence  and  submission  be 
engendered  towards  a  government  which,  after  fifteen 
years  of  intolerable  abuses  and  errors,  having  scarcely 
recovered  from  the  consternation  of  all  but  general  revo- 
lution, returns  to  the  same  rut,  and  repeats  the  same 
errors." 2  As  the  situation  in  the  Legations  grew  worse, 
and  it  became  evident  that  something  more  than  the 
moral  disapproval  of  the  Great  Powers  was  needed  to 
bring  back  quiet,  the  anxiety  of  the  French  Cabinet  iu- 
^  Farini,  i,  57-62.  ^  Biaiiclii,  iii,  98. 


THE  REVOLUTIONS   OF  1831.  369 

creased.  On  one  side  Perier  was  confronted  by  the  fact 
that  Austria,  liussia,  and  Prussia  secretly  hated  the  July 
monarchy  as  the  product  of  a  revolution ;  if  he  angered 
them,  they  might  declare  war;  on  the  other  side,  he  had 
to  reckon  with  a  large  body  of  Frenclunen  who  were  eager 
to  overturn  a  government  which  they  accused  of  double- 
dealing  towards  them  and  of  cowardly  subservience  to  the 
Northern  autocrats.  After  long  search,  the  bewildered 
premier  found  an  expedient  which  he  hoped  would  sat- 
isfy every  one.  Foreseeing  that  the  Pope  would  be  forced 
to  call  for  aid  from  Austria,  he  acknowledged  that  such 
intervention  would  be  both  the  most  legitimate  and  ex- 
peditious method.  "But,  on  the  other  hand,"  he  contin- 
ued, "  we  must  not  forget  that,  if  France  ought  to  respect 
that  legitimate  influence  which  Austria  may  exercise  in 
Italy,  she  ought  not,  tlierefore,  to  allow  that  influence  to 
become  excessive.  Should  it  happen,  then,  that  the  Im- 
perial forces  were  again  obliged  to  occupy  the  Papal 
States,  French  troops  also  will  appear  there,  if  only,  so 
to  speak,  as  a  mere  formality.  A  battalion  or  two  of  our 
soldiers  would  l)e  sent  to  Ancona;  they  would  suffice  to 
attain  the  simple  moral  result  we  have  in  view.  So  small 
a  corps  could  not  arouse  just  fears  of  v/ars  against  any 
one."^  When  the  Austrian  ambassador  pointed  out  that 
there  was  a  radical  ditt'crence  between  intervention  when 
requested  by  tlie  legitimate  sovereign  of  the  Pa])al  States 
and  such  unasked  for  intervention  as  tlie  French  minister 
pro]>osed,  Perier  was  unconvinced.  "At  any  rate,"  said 
he,  "we  shall  enter  the  P<)])e's  dominions  together  with 
you.      Tlie  honor  of  France  demands  it." 

Sainte-Anlaire  feigned  surprise  when  the  news  reached 
R<mic  that  the  Austrians  had  reoccupied  the  Legations. 
lie  ])rotested  to  Car<linal  Bei-netti,  the  Papal  Secretary, 
but  the  latter  threw  the  responsibility  on  Cardinal  Al- 
bani,  who,  he  said,    had   followed    his  own    judgment  in 

1   BiaiKlii,  iii.  HH. 


370  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

calling  ill  the  Emperor's  troops.  Then  ensued  a  clash  of 
intrigues  between  the  French  and  the  Austrian  agents  at 
the  Holy  See.  The  former  besought  the  Pope  to  make 
an  official  request  for,  or  at  least  to  sanction,  the  French 
occupation  of  Aiicona,  because,  he  said,  it  was  not  just 
that  the  head  of  the  Catholic  world  should  allow  Austria 
alone  the  privilege  of  guaranteeing  his  invaolability. 
Metternich's  man  parried  guile  with  guile:  he  told  the 
Pope  that  the  French  were,  at  heart,  revolutionists ;  that 
it  was  their  collusion  which  had  promoted  the  insurrection 
of  1831 ;  and  that,  even  granting  that  they  were  now  sin- 
cere in  their  professions  of  friendship  for  the  Holy  See, 
their  entrance  into  Ancona  might  kindle  a  general  war, 
of  which  the  Pope,  the  Vicar  of  the  Prince  of  Peace, 
would  thus  be  the  indirect  originator.  In  this  diplomatic 
parry-and-thrust  the  Austrian  fencer  excelled  his  French 
rival,  and  the  Pope  stolidly  refused  to  acknowledge  the 
necessity  of  French  interference.^ 

But  the  French  Cabinet  had  ventured  too  far  to  re- 
treat; its  own  existence,  perhaps  also  that  of  the  Orlean- 
ist  monarchy,  depended  upon  Pcrier's  decision  to  risk 
the  high-handed  stroke  he  had  long  threatened.  So  he 
ordered  a  French  squadron  to  proceed  immediately  from 
Toulon  to  Ancona.  On  February  22,  1832,  the  French 
vessels  entered  the  latter  port,  and  during  the  night  dis- 
embarked eighteen  hundred  soldiers.  The  French  cap- 
tains, Gallois  and  Combes,  called  upon  the  Papal  com- 
mander to  allow  them  to  occupy  the  citadel,  as  had  been 
agreed,  they  declared,  between  their  government  and  the 
Holy  See.  The  commander  replied  that  he  had  heard 
of  no  such  agreement,  but,  being  threatened  with  a  can- 
nonade, he  yielded.  Accordingly,  on  February  23,  the 
Papal  flag  was  lowered  and  the  French  tricolor  hoisted, 
and  Captain  Gallois,  whilst  his  soldiers  mingled  with  the 
populace  of  the  town  and  taught  them  how  to  sing  the 

^  Bianchi.  iii.  l().")-7;   Gualterio.  i,  100-8. 


THE   REVOLUTIONS   OF    1831.  371 

"Marseillaise"  after  the  vehement  fashion  of  '93,  set 
about  inditing  a  flamboyant  proclamation.  In  the  hands 
of  men  accustomed  to  use  the  sword  the  pen  is  seldom 
mightier  than  the  sword;  Gallois's  manifesto  bristled 
with  indiscretions  that  might  have  stung  Austria  to  de- 
clare war;  but  fortunately,  Cubieres,  a  political  agent 
who  had  been  dispatched  by  the  French  government, 
reached  Ancona  in  time  to  prevent  the  placarding  of  the 
lively  captain's  effusion,  although  copies  of  it  got  abroad 
among  the  foreign  ministers,  to  incense  the  Pope  and 
Metternich,  and  to  cause  Pcrier  additional  embarrass- 
ment.^ 

As  soon  as  the  fact  of  the  French  occupation  was 
known  at  Rome,  the  Papal  Secretary  protested  against  it. 
He  informed  the  French  ambassador  that  the  only  repara- 
tion possible  was  the  immediate  recall  of  an  expedition 
which,  in  lawlessness  and  effrontery,  had  had  no  equal 
since  the  days  of  the  Saracen  corsairs.  But  Sainte- 
Aulaire  had  no  authority  to  rei)udiate  tlie  display  of  vigor 
on  which,  as  he  well  knew,  the  very  life  of  liis  govern- 
ment hung,  and  he  tluu'efore  apologized  for  the  rudeness 
of  (iallois  and  Combes,  without  offering  to  give  up  the 
positions  they  had  seized.  For  a  while  he  insisted  that 
he  had  honestly  believed  that  the  Pope;  would  consent  to 
the  intervention,  but  when  Cardinal  Rcrnetti,  by  refer- 
ring to  the  minutes  of  the  notes  that  had  })assed  between 
them,  proved  that  then;  was  no  ground  for  this  belief,  he 
allowed  himself  to  be  made  tlie  seaju'goat  of  the  Cabinet 
at  Paris,  and  took  u})on  himself  tin;  blame  for  the  misun- 
derstanding.- 

Metteniieli,  meanwhile,  probed  tlie  intentions  of  the 
(ireat  Powers  in  the  hope  of  discovering  them  unitt'd  for 
war.  England,  tlien  in  travail  witli  her  Heform  Bill, 
declared   that  slu;   sympathized   with   the    French  exjiedi- 

'    Hiuiiclii,  iii.  lOS-lO;    I'l.j,-;;!.  ii.   If.  7  ;    Kariiii.  i,  (ili  ;    CiialU'iio.  i,   110. 
'   Hiiinclii.  iii,   I  IT  stq. 


372  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

tion,  but  it  was  evident  that  she  would  take  no  active  part 
in  a  Continental  quarrel ;  Prussia  announced  that,  so  long 
as  the  conflict  was  restricted  to  Italy,  she  would  remain 
neutral,  but  if  it  spread  North  of  the  Alps,  she  would 
consult  her  interests  before  choosing  her  allies ;  only  Rus- 
sia was  willing  to  follow  immediately  Austria's  lead.  In 
this  absence  of  harmony,  Metternich,  mindful  of  the  fact 
that  a  war  with  France  would  precipitate  a  mortal  strug- 
gle between  Autocracy  and  the  revolutionary  elements  of 
all  Europe,  prudently  decided  to  treat  the  Ancona  affair 
as  too  trivial  to  warrant  an  appeal  to  arms.  But  he  gave 
orders  for  the  Austrian  forces  in  Italy  to  be  increased, 
and  to  be  held  on  the  alert  against  any  attempt  of  the 
French  to  advance  beyond  Ancona,  and  he  urged  the 
Papal  government  not  to  retract  a  single  jot  of  its  pro- 
test, nor  to  j)ause  in  its  demand  that  the  French  should 
withdraw  forthwith.  ^  Towards  the  French  Cabinet  he 
assumed  a  condescending  attitude,  as  of  an  all-wise  mas- 
ter of  diplomacy,  who  criticises  the  blunders  of  a  novice 
whom  he  might  punish  if  he  did  not  prefer  to  laugh  at 
him.  He  knew  that  sarcasm  will  often  dissolve  obstacles 
which  it  would  be  dangerous  to  blow  up  with  gunpowder. 
So  he  pointed  out  how  easy  it  was  for  inexi]uerienced 
diplomats  to  he  tumbled  headlong  into  a  mire  of  incon- 
sistencies, merely  because  they  gave  the  rein  to  a  hobby : 
only  last  year,  for  instance,  the  French  had  taken  the 
world  to  witness  that  they  would  do  battle  in  behalf  of 
their  chosen  principle,  non-intervention;  and  now  they 
themselves  are  violating  that  principle  by  occupying 
Ancona.  The}"  excuse  themselves  for  this  folly,  by  de- 
claring that  they  wish  to  hasten  the  evacuation  of  the 
Papal  States  by  the  Austrians ;  but  the  Austrians,  who 
were  just  on  the  point  of  going,  will  now  remain.  M. 
Perier  will  find,  Metternich  said  to  Marshal  ]Maison,  the 
French  ambassador    at   Vienna,    that  he   has    "lent  his 

^  Bianelii.  iii,  114  sfO. 


THE   REVOLUTIONS   OF    1831.  373 

countenance  to  a  farce;  to  go  to  Ancona  merely  to  re- 
treat from  it  immediately  is  an  error,  and  if  in  order 
to  shift  the  blame  off  his  own  shoulders  he  were  ever  to 
allow  himself  to  make  it  appear  that  our  departure  was 
due  to  the  appearance  of  a  French  expeditionary  force, 
he  would  compel  us  to  give  his  statements  a  public  dis- 
claimer. .  .  .  You  will  have  to  avow  yourselves  the 
friends  of  revolt  and  the  patrons  of  anarchy."  ^ 

M.  Perier,  however,  who  was  working  to  save  his  own 
ministry,  having  long  since  dropped  his  pretense  of  be- 
ing actuated  by  sympathy  for  the  Italians,  took  Metter- 
nich's  sarcasm  without  wincing,  nay,  ahnost  with  grati- 
tude, as  soon  as  he  saw  that  there  would  be  no  war.  Let 
diplomatic  experts  laugh  at  his  comic-opera  seizure  of 
Ancona,  his  glory-loving  countrymen  had  taken  it  seri- 
ously as  an  exploit  wortliy  of  the  Grand  Nation ;  and  so 
long  as  the  deed  hud  dazzled  the  French,  he  could  afford 
to  make  lavish  apology  to  Metteruich  and  the  irate  Pope. 
lie  refused  to  witlulraw  his  troops,  —  that  would  have 
been  fatal  to  his  prospects  at  liome,  —  but  he  recalled  and 
reprimanded  the  over-zealous  Gallois  and  Combes;  he 
agreed  that  France  should  defray  all  the  expenses  of  the 
garrison,  that  the  Papal  banner  should  again  float  over 
the  citadel  of  Ancona,  that  the  Papal  authorities  in  the 
town  itself  should  in  no  wise  be  disturbed,  and  that  tlie 
garrison  should  return  to  France  whenever  the  Austrian 
troops  had  evacuated  the  States  of  the  Church.  Pope 
(jrregory  made  a  virtue  of  necessity  and  consented  that  the 
French  should  temporarily  remain;  or,  as  he  ex])ressed  it 
in  pious  verbiage,  he  wished  to  set  the  world  an  exani])le 
(jf  mihlness,  one  of  the  noblest  characteristics  of  divine 
religion,  and  to  avert  any  wrangh;  which  might  plunge 
Kuro[)e  in  war.- 

Thus  ended  the  Ancona  affair,  wliicli  served  Louis 
Philippe  and  liis  Cabinet  as  a  ruse  whereby  tliev  fooled  a 

1  Metteniich,  v,  20\).  •  15i;tiiclii.  iii,   iL'S. 


374  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

part  of  the  French  people,  but  which  gave  France  no  real 
influence  in  Italy  and  did  not  contribute  to  the  imj3rove- 
ment  of  the  political  lot  of  the  Italians.  During  the  first 
few  weeks  of  the  French  occupation,  the  Italian  Liberals 
and  conspirators  had,  indeed,  been  encouraged  to  hope 
that  their  deliverance  was  at  hand ;  for  the  French  soldiers 
talked  bravely  of  driving  the  Austrians  out  of  their  coun- 
try, and  French  agents  went  about  instigating  rebellion : 
but  as  soon  as  Perier  came  to  an  agreement  with  the  Pa- 
pal government,  the  Italians  discovered  that  these  pro- 
ceedings were  unauthorized,  and  thereafter  the  garrison 
was  forbidden  to  associate  with  the  natives. 

Our  survey  of  this  dijilomatic  intrigue  would  be  incom- 
plete, if  we  failed  to  note  that  it  has  been  asserted  that 
the  French  government,  before  dispatching  the  expedition 
to  Ancona,  secretly  secured  the  Pope's  consent,  and  that 
the  indignation  which  the  seizure  of  that  town  roused  at 
liome,  and  the  protests  of  Cardinal  Bernetti,  had  been 
preconcerted  with  the  French  prime  minister,  and  there- 
fore did  not  alarm  him.  There  is  no  reason  to  suppose 
that  the  Roman  hierarehs,  devoted  as  they  were  to  cun- 
ning and  deceit,  would  shrink  from  such  an  artifice 
through  any  scruples  of  conscience,  or  that  they  would 
play  their  role  clumsily;  but  we  are  skeptical  of  Pcrier's 
ability  to  carry  through  so  delicate  a  sham  without  betray- 
ing himself;  for  we  have  seen  how  quickly  all  his  other 
designs  were  penetrated  and  balked  by  Metternich.  There 
was  indeed  a  sufficient  motive  for  the  Pope's  collusion  in 
so  subtle  a  stratagem :  ever  since  the  Congress  of  Vienna, 
the  Roman  Curia  had  suspected  that  Austria  planned  to 
annex  the  Legations,  and  if,  lieing  now  in  virtual  posses- 
sion of  these  provinces,  and  being  emboldened  by  the 
timidity  of  the  French  the  year  before,  she  refused  to  give 
them  up,  what  means  had  the  Curia  for  expelling  her? 
To  implicate  some  other  Powers  —  and  France  was  the 
most  convenient  —  in  the  defense  of  the  integrity  of  the 


THE   REVOLUTIONS   OF    1831.  376 

Roman  State,  would  be  a  shrewd  policy;  for  even  if 
France  and  Austria  came  to  blows,  the  Papacy  would 
have  a  good  chance  of  keeping  her  provinces  in  any  set- 
tlement after  a  war.  This  explanation  does  not  lack 
plausibility,  although  perhaps  it  will  never  be  established 
beyond  question. ^  Whatever  the  wiles  adopted,  the  out- 
come of  them  all  was  that  Austria  garrisoned  the  Lega- 
tions, and  France  Ancona,  until  1838,  and  that  the  bur- 
dens of  Pope  Gregory's  subjects  grew  heavier  as  the  years 
dragged  on. 

This  third  revolution  marks  the  close  of  the  first  phase 
of  Italy's  long  struggle  for  emancipation.  The  Italians 
had  learned  by  their  failures  in  1820  and  1821  that  their 
chief  adversary  was  Austria,  and  not  their  local  princes. 
These  they  had  dislodged  with  but  little  effort,  but  Aus- 
tria, the  irresistible  factor  of  the  Holy  Alliance,  had  come 
and  replaced  them.  Evidently  the  Italians  could  not 
reasonably  hope  for  freedom  so  long  as  Austria  —  whom 
they  could  not  overwhelm  by  arms,  nor  persuade  by  argu- 
ments, nor  soften  by  entreaties  —  guarded  the  Peninsula. 
"We  make  the  maintenance  of  public  tranquillity  in 
Italy  a  question  of  our  own  existence,"^  said  Metternich, 
who  meant  by  "tranquillity"  a  lethargy  so  deep  that  it 
precluded  even  dreams  of  political  reforms.  But  through 
their  exiled  brethren,  the  Italian  Liberals  liad  contacts 
witli  the  Liberals  of  the  rest  of  Eur(q)e;  they  felt  that 
their  cause  was  no  longer  isolated,  but  international,  and 
they  were  electrified  when  their  French  confederates, 
having  overturned  the  Bourbons,  set  up  a  monarchy 
whose  watchword  was  "non-intervention."  With  France 
eager,  as  they  supposed,  to  enforce  that  principle,  and 
with  Enghmd  in  synipatliy  with  Fiance,  the  Italians 
deemed  that  thev  had  a  ( Icar  fiehl  in  which  to  try  conchi- 
sions  with  their  local  tyrants,  and  that  Austria  would  not 

*  Pot;j,n.  ii.  17-S;  (Jualterio,  i,  11()-11. 
2  MetttTiiii'li,  V,  2.">S. 


376  THE    DA^VN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

dare  to  interfere.  The  ease  with  which  they  captured 
Parma,  Modena,  and  the  Papal  States  almost  to  the  gates 
of  Rome,  proved  that  they  had  not  underestimated  the 
weakness  of  their  rulers  or  the  impotence  of  the  govern- 
ments against  which  they  had  so  long  protested.  But 
then  came  the  terrible  disillusion:  the  Orleanist  mon- 
archy deserted  them;  Austria  again  fulfilled  her  abom- 
inable mission;  and  the  revolution  collapsed  in  the  mo- 
ment of  victory.  The  Italian  insurgents  thus  learned 
that,  as  they  had  no  official  recognition,  so  they  could  not 
bind  a  recognized  government  like  that  of  France  by  any 
covenant  which  it  would  be  ashamed  to  break.  They 
were  international  outlaws,  who  had  not  the  power  to 
hold  any  lawful  ministry  to  its  agreement  with  them. 
Disappointed  and  duped,  they  could  lay  to  heart  that  so- 
ber warning  which  Washington  gave  his  countrymen  in 
his  Farewell  Address :  "There  can  be  no  greater  error 
than  to  expect  or  calculate  upon  real  favors  from  nation 
to  nation." 

But  this  revolution  of  1831  tauglit  the  Italians  not  only 
how  illusory  and  uncertain  was  their  hope  of  foreign  assist- 
ance; it  taught  them  also  the  folly  of  seeking  to  make 
an  accomplice  of  a  native  prince  by  flattering  his  aml)i- 
tion.  The  Duke  of  Modena,  like  Francis  of  Naples  in 
1820,  and  Charles  Albert  of  Piedmont  in  1821,  had  failed 
them :  it  was  time  to  abandon  the  expectation  that  princes 
bred  and  nurtured  by  Autocracy  would  turn  against  their 
dam.  You  may  tame  a  lion's  cub  and  have  him  for  your 
])et,  but  at  the  first  smell  of  blood  he  will  spring  upon 
you;  for  instinct  may  long  be  checked,  but  cannot  be 
destroyed.  This  revolution  gave  further  evidence  of  the 
underlying  weakness  of  the  entire  fabric  of  Italian  con- 
spiracy. The  cause  lacked  a  centre ;  it  lacked  a  head ;  it 
still  beat  about  ineffectually  for  a  unifying  ideal ;  it  was 
still  entangled  in  secret  mummeries,  and  distracted  by 
local  feuds.      These  conditions,   as  I  have  often  stated, 


THE   REVOLUTIONS   OF   1831,  377 

belong  to  every  large  conspiracy  whose  aim  is  not  summed 
up  and  personified  in  one  leader  to  whose  authority  all 
defer;  but  the   inherited  divisions  of  the   Italians  only 
increased  the  difficulty  of  bringing  harmony  out  of  ele- 
ments so  discordant.      We  ought  perhaps  to  be  surprised 
that  the  plotters  in  Modena,  Parma,  and  the  Legations 
could  so  far  sink  their  mutual  differences  as  to  exhibit, 
if  but  for  a  moment,  a  show  of  concord  on  the  surface, 
rather  than  that  they  failed  to  make  concord  permanent. 
Finally,  these  events  of  1831-2  warned  Europe  that, 
after  fifteen  years  of  oppression,  Italy's  desire  for  free- 
dom had  not  been  crushed.     There   was  no  longer  an 
excuse  for  attributing  her  periodic  rebellions  to  the  maclii- 
nations  of  a  few  evil-minded  or  visionary  men;  the  ills 
she  suffered  were  intolerable,  —  they  must  be  cured  be- 
fore Europe  could  expect  to  beliold  her  tranquil.      It  was 
not  against  a  temporary  or  local  wrong  that   she   cried 
out,  but  against  the  entire  system  whicli  had  l)een  thrust 
upon  her.     In  1820  Na})les,  in  1821  Piedmont,  and  now 
Emilia  and  the  Papal  States,  had  risen;  Lombardy  and 
Venetia  would  have  been  the  first  to  revolt  had  not  their 
conquerors  been  too  strong  for  even  desperation  to  assail ; 
only  Tuscany  seemed  comparatively  submissive,  but  she, 
too,  though  she  uttered  no  complaint,  knew  that  her  })ea('e 
was  not  freedom.      Ilencefortli,  no  one  could  say  that  the 
Italians  in  every  part  of   their   country  had  not  ])ut  on 
record  by  protest   of  word   or  hand   their   irreconcilable 
hatred  of  the  Imndage  to  wbich  Hun>j)e  liad  condemned 
them.      Nevertlieless,    their    protests,    though   tacitly    ad- 
mitted  to  be   just,  were   disregarded,  and   tlie   Enro])ean 
Powe'rs  tliouglit  that  they  bad  rid   themselv<'s  of  the  irri- 
tating  Italian   (piestion   by  aiding  the    Italian   despots   to 
stuff'  again  into  Italy's  mouth  the  gag  she  had  wrenched 
away.      Nervous  monarchs  and   ministers   would  at  least 
secure  tlieniselves   against    noise.      The    inunediate  gainer 
by  the  insurrection  and   intrigue   was,  as  usual,  Austria. 


378  THE   DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

The  Papal  government,  which,  under  Pius  VII  and  Leo 
XII,  had  struggled  to  keep  her  at  bay,  now,  under  Greg- 
ory XVI,  implored  her  aid.  So  Metternicli,  by  patiently 
waiting,  was  acknowledged  to  be  indispensable  to  the 
temporal  existence  of  the  Papacy,  as  he  had  formerly 
shown  that  his  protection  was  indispensable  to  Ferdinand 
at  Naples,  and  to  Charles  Felix  at  Turin.  And  he  had 
succeeded,  without  striking  a  blow,  in  humiliating  the 
only  Continental  Cabinet  which,  since  Waterloo,  had 
dared  to  0])pose  his  autocratic  policy  in  Italy.  He  had 
made  the  Orleanist  monarchy  ridiculous,  and  tossed  its 
"principle  of  non-intervention"  into  the  rubbish  heap  of 
Time. 


BOOK  THIRD. 

WHILE  GREGORY  XVI  PONTIFICATES. 

Di'  og^mai  che  la  Chiesa  di  Roma, 
Per  confondere  in  36  due  reggiiuenti, 
Cade  nel  fango,  e  s6  brutta  e  la  soma. 

Dahte,  Purgatorio,  xvi,  127-9. 

CHAPTER  I. 

CONSPIRACY   GETS    ITS   LEADER. 

The  Revolution  of  1830,  ineffectual  as  it  seemed  to  its 
promoters,  was  yet  most  siguiticant.  It  failed  in  Italy 
and  Poland,  in  Spain  and  Portugal;  it  created  a  mon- 
f^rel  monarchy,  neither  Absolute  nor  Constitutional,  in 
France ;  only  in  Belj^ium  diil  it  attain  its  immediate  pur- 
pose. Nevertheless,  if  we  look  beneath  the  surface,  we 
see  that  it  was  one  of  those  epoch-marking  events  of 
which  we  can  say,  "Things  cannot  be  again  what  until 
just  now  they  were."  Constitutionalism,  the  ideal  of 
1789,  which  Napoleon  abandoned  for  his  selfish  ambition, 
and  which  the  Congress  of  Vienna  thought  to  strangle, 
had  risen  up,  not  yet  triumi)hant,  but  so  hardy  as  to  warn 
the  Autocrats  that  they  could  not  destroy  it;  and  they 
tolerated  it  in  France,  rather  than  risk  a  decisive  encoun- 
ter with  tlie  demons  of  Republicanism  and  Anarchy  whicli 
they  saw  beliind  it.  The  fluly  monarchy  was  thus  a  com- 
j)romise  between  the  Absolutists  and  the  Kcpublicans; 
tlie  former  angry  at  liaving  Ix'cn  forced  to  concede  any- 
thing, the  latter  angry  at  not  having  gained  moi'c.  Louis 
Philippe,  with  a  dynasty  to   nurture,    bi-longed  at  heart 


380  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

with  the  Autocrats,  but  having  also  his  own  crown  to  pre- 
serve, he  coquetted  with  the  Liberals.  He  adopted  the 
policy  of  the  '■just  milieu,''  or  golden  mean,  —  "that  doc- 
trine," said  Metternich,  "which  always  couples  a  vast 
amount  of  thoughtlessness  with  a  grain  of  reason;"  and 
for  nearly  eighteen  years  he  subjected  France  to  a  reign 
of  makeshifts  and  disingenuousness  which  typified  the 
confusion  and  the  ebb-and-flow  of  the  opposing  forces  in 
Europe  during  that  period.  He  was  shrewd  enough  to 
conceal  his  inmost  preferences ;  he  assumed  the  dress  and 
manners  of  a  democratic  age,  letting  himself  pass  for  a 
Citizen  King  and  sparing  no  pains  to  ingratiate  himself 
with  the  bourgeoisie.  The  aristocracy  of  the  Old  Regime 
was  based  on  Blood;  Napoleon  made  Talent  the  corner- 
stone of  his  aristocracy;  since  1815  Money  has  been 
often  substituted  for  Blood  or  Brains  in  repairing  the 
crumbling  Chinese  Wall  of  European  Aristocracy.  And 
this  is  not  strange ;  because  Commercialism  has  been  the 
dominant  trait  of  our  century,  and  it  is  as  natural  that 
the  great  social  j)rize  in  a  commercial  age  should  fall  to 
millionaires,  as  that,  in  a  military  age,  they  should  fall 
to  soldiers,  or  in  a  thcologic  age  to  churchmen.  In  pat- 
ronizing his  merchants  and  bankers,  Loiiis  Philippe 
merely  acknowledged  the  power  behind  every  modern 
throne,  —  the  power  which  makes  and  immakes  Cabinets 
and  gives  or  withholds  the  siibsidies  of  war.  The  modern 
Temple  of  Janus  is  the  Exchange. 

Based  on  contradictions  which  were  manifesting  them- 
selves everywhere,  but  which  were  most  apparent  in 
France,  Louis  Pliilippe's  government  existed  in  a  con- 
stant state  of  unstable  equilibrium :  like  a  tilting  boulder 
which  a  child  can  cause  to  vibrate,  but  which  the  moun- 
taineers refrain  from  disturbing,  lest  it  roll  down  the 
slope  and  crash  into  their  village  below. 

In  Italy,  however,  after  the  suppression  of  the  disor- 
derly Legations,  the  local  tyrants  and  Austria  redoubled 


CONSPIRACY  GETS   ITS   LEADER.  381 

their  efforts  to  foresee  and  prevent  all  change.  Round 
the  Peninsula  they  drew  a  line  of  quarantine  across 
which  the  dangerous  ideas  of  progress  and  reform  might 
not  pass ;  they  strove  to  disinfect  every  thought  that  came 
from  abroad ;  they  were  swift  to  isolate  every  subject  in 
whom  they  detected  symptoms  of  political  disease.  None 
knew  better  than  themselves,  however,  their  inability  to 
cure  the  predisposition  to  contagion ;  still,  they  were  un- 
prepared to  see  the  epidemic  take  a  new  and  more  threat- 
ening form. 

The  late  risings  in  the  Duchies  and  Legations  had 
brought  no  comfort  to  the  conspirators,  but  had  taught 
them,  on  the  contrary,  how  ineffectual,  how  hopeless  was 
the  method  of  the  secret  societies.  After  more  than  fif- 
teen years  they  had  not  gained  an  inch;  tliey  had  only 
learned  that  their  rulers  would  concede  nothing,  and  that 
Austria,  their  great  adversary,  had  staked  her  existence 
on  maintaining  thraldom  in  Italy.  Innumerable  snudl 
outbursts  and  three  revolutions  had  ended  in  the  death 
of  hundreds  and  in  the  iniprisonment  or  proscription  of 
thousands  of  victims.  The  company  of  old  leaders  had 
been  diminished  after  each  failure,  until  now  but  few 
remained,  and  these  were  silent  through  discouragement 
or  prudence.  Above  all,  the  inherent  weakness  of  the 
sects  had  been  proved  V)v  their  inability  to  coiiperate,  l)y 
tlicir  lack  of  one  central  aim,  by  their  hesitation,  and  V)y 
tlu'ir  mutual  distrust.  Sectional  rivalry,  the  ancestral 
baju?  of  Italy,  had  been  in  part  allayed,  but  sectarian 
rivalry  had  too  often  re])lace(l  it.  In  tliis  last  revolution 
we  saw,  for  instance,  how  the  Komagnoles  had  refused  to 
act  in  concert  witli  Menotti,  and  we  might  have  seen,  had 
we  examined  in  detail  the  (•()]la])S('  of  that  revolution,  how 
those  same  Romagnoh's  treated  Zueelii  and  his  six  hun- 
dred fugitives  froui  Modeiia  as  foreigners  and  not  as  al- 
lies. Nor  couhl  the  fact  l)e  blinked,  that  tlie  couspiiaey 
had  failed  to  take  root  among  the  masses.      Its  ])n)moters 


382  THE   DAWN   OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

were  soldiers  and  middle-class  men,  and  a  small  body  of 
the  most  intelligent  nobles,  —  doubtless  the  best  element 
then  at  hand,  but  too  full  of  the  doctrines  of  the  Napole- 
onic period,  and  too  much  given  to  theory  and  reminis- 
cence. Where  the  lower  classes  had  joined  the  sects,  as 
at  Naples,  they  cast  over  all  the  Liberal  undertakings 
the  suspicion  that  violence  and  plunder,  rather  than  a 
high  principle,  were  their  objects.  That  the  revolution- 
ists had  so  easily  won  their  first  skirmish  in  Naples,  Pied- 
mont, and  Central  Italy  was  due  less  to  their  own  strength 
than  to  their  enemy's  weakness;  but  where  had  they 
shown  the  harmony  and  the  wisdom  necessary  for  build- 
ing a  better  government  and  a  strong,  on  the  ruins  of 
those  they  had  cast  down?  Did  not  the  brief  respite  be- 
tween success  and  disaster  suffice  in  every  case  to  prove 
that  their  inexperience,  if  not  their  dissensions,  would 
have  prevented  them,  even  without  the  inexorable  veto 
of  Austria  ?  The  forces  of  Liberalism  lay  over  Italy,  like 
the  waters  of  a  freshet  in  the  hollows  of  a  meadow,  and 
they  were  growing  stagnant  because  there  was  no  channel 
in  which  they  could  be  united  and  drawn  off. 

Just  when  conspiracy,  through  repeated  failures,  was 
thus  discredited,  there  arose  a  leader  so  strong  and  un- 
selfish, so  magnetic  and  patient  and  zealous,  that  by  him, 
if  by  any  one,  conspiracy  might  be  guided  to  victory. 
This  leader,  the  Great  Conspirator,  was  Joseph  Mazzini, 
one  of  the  half  dozen  supreme  influences  in  European 
politics  during  the  nineteenth  century,  whose  career  wiU 
interest  posterity  as  long  as  it  is  concerned  at  all  in  our 
epoch  of  transition.  For  just  as  Metternich  was  the  High- 
Priest  of  the  Old  Regime,  so  Mazzini  was  the  Prophet  of 
a  Social  Order  more  just,  more  free,  more  spiritual  than 
any  the  world  has  kno^\^l.  He  was  an  Idealist  who  would 
hold  no  parley  with  temporizers,  an  enthusiast  whom  half- 
concessions  could  not  beguile :  and  so  he  came  to  be  de- 
cried as  a  fanatic  or  a  visionary.     This  is  the  fate  of 


CONSPIRACY   GETS   ITS   LEADER.  383 

those  idealists  who  would  act  as  well  as  preach.  Your 
Kant,  or  Emerson,  or  Darwin  may  publish,  as  from  a 
serene  height,  the  laws  of  philosophy,  morals,  and  science, 
and  withhold  themselves  from  the  vexations  of  debate,  in 
which  the  personality  of  the  thinker  may  long  distract 
attention  from  his  thoughts.  But  the  social  reformer 
cannot  divorce  thought  from  action.  The  abuses  which 
block  the  way  of  the  truth  he  would  see  prevail  must  be 
attacked  forthwith ;  it  will  not  suffice  merely  to  utter  his 
message  and  leave  it  to  time ;  society  is  deaf,  and  he  must 
reiterate  his  doctrines ;  society  is  dull,  conservative,  timid, 
he  must  beat  upon  it,  rouse  it,  fill  it  with  unrest  and 
shame,  till  it  will  no  longer  endure  to  uphold  the  bad, 
when  good  and  better  beckon  it.  Undoubtedly,  physi- 
cians a  century  hence  will  have  discovered  remedies  for 
many  ills  that  now  seem  incurable,  but  this  does  not  ex- 
onerate a  physician  to-day  from  trying  to  relieve  the 
patients  who  appeal  to  him.  And  so  the  reformer  can 
hope  to  bring  to  pass  his  Utopia  only  by  removing  pres- 
ent evils.  His  ideal  is  vast,  his  deeds  can  be  only  partial 
and  restricted;  and  the  world,  comparing  his  promise 
with  his  performance,  will  pity  or  sneer.  In  judging 
Mazzini  we  must  discriminate  between  what  he  aspired 
to  do  and  what  he  actually  accomplished ;  his  acts  are  re- 
corded, and  they  can  be  estimated ;  l)ut  a  ctMitury  or  two 
may  still  be  reqiiired  to  decide  whether  his  ideal  was  a 
mere  dream,  or  a  true  pro])he('y  of  the  nobler  order  to 
whi(»h  the  world  shall  attain.  AVhat  lie  ])roposod  was 
clearly  unrealizable  at  the  time  when  he  pr()])<)sed  it;  but 
the  ((uestion  for  the  future  to  answer  is,  Wht'U  Society 
shall  have  advanced  far  l)eyon(l  its  ])resent  condition,  will 
it  adopt  the  Mazzinian  ])att('rn?  In  so  far  as  we  shall 
have  to  deal  witli  Mazzini  in  the  ])<'riod  we  are  consider- 
ing, we  shall  usually  see  in  liini  the  man  of  action,  fight- 
ing for  a  definite  and  innuediate  end:  it  is  all  the  more 
necessary,  therefor<',  to  remember  that  behind  the  man  of 


384  THE   DAWN   OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

action  was  always  the  idealist  to  whom  the  fact  achieved 
seemed  mean  in  comparison  with  the  splendor  of  his  aspi- 
ration. 

Mazzini  was  born  in  Genoa  in  1808.  His  father  was 
a  lawyer  of  repnte,  his  mother  a  woman  of  tenderness  and 
intelligence.  Iler  influence  over  their  son  was  deep  and 
lasting,  for  he  was  so  frail  a  boy  that  he  had  to  be  kept 
at  home,  where  his  physical  weakness  conduced  to  a 
rapid  and  precocious  intellectual  growth.  He  read  and 
thought  beyond  his  years,  and  he  had  an  almost  feminine 
organization  of  nerves  and  emotions.  One  day,  in  his 
twelfth  year,  when  he  and  his  mother  were  walking,  —  it 
was  just  after  the  collapse  of  the  Revolution  of  1821,  — 
"a  tall  black-bearded  man,  with  a  severe  and  energetic 
countenance,"  approached  and  held  out  a  white  handker- 
chief towards  them,  merely  saying,  "For  the  refugees  of 
Italy."  That  request  burned  into  the  boj^'s  soul.  "That 
day,"  he  wrote  long  afterward,  "was  the  first  in  which  a 
confused  idea  presented  itself  to  my  mind,  —  I  will  not 
say  of  country  or  liberty,  but  an  idea  that  we  Italians 
could  and  therefore  ought  to  struggle  for  the  liberty  of 
our  country."  ^  Wherever  he  went,  the  lad  saw  the  faces 
of  the  refugees,  he  heard  that  plea,  and  the  thought  that 
he,  too,  must  bear  his  part  in  his  country's  redemption 
never  forsook  him.  His  health  improved,  and  in  due 
time  he  was  matriculated  into  the  university,  to  fit  him- 
self for  his  father's  profession.  At  the  outset,  he  says, 
"  in  the  midst  of  the  noisy  tumitltuous  life  of  the  students 
around  me,  I  was  sombre  and  absorbed,  and  appeared 
like  one  suddenly  grown  old.  I  childishly  determined  to 
dress  always  in  black,  fancying  myself  in  mourning  for 
my  country.  "2  But  soon  he  found  among  his  comrades 
friends,  few  but  devoted ;  they  discussed  together  the  lar- 
gest questions,  after  the  manner  of  generous  and  hopeful 

1  Mazzini :    Llf<  and  Writings  (London,  1890).  i,  2. 

2  Ibid,  4. 


CONSPIRACY   GETS    ITS   LEADER.  385 

collegians;  they  formed  little  groups,  to  smuggle  in  and 
circulate  prohibited  books;  they  wrote  essays,  and  longed 
for  a  periodical  that  would  publish  them.  Already,  we 
see,  Mazziui  gave  only  a  perfunctory  attention  to  the  law ; 
he  neglected  his  lessons  to  read  Dante,  and  he  felt  within 
him  the  desire  and  the  ability  to  win  renown  in  literature. 
Those  were  the  days  of  the  war  between  the  Classicists 
and  the  Romanticists,  and  that  Mazzini  and  his  young, 
enthusiastic  companions  were  all  Romanticists  needs 
hardly  to  be  said ;  but  I  must  quote  his  own  words  in 
order  to  show  that  he,  at  least,  though  but  eighteen  years 
old,  saw  how  much  was  involved  in  what  seemed  to  many 
but  a  literary  squabble. 

"The  first  school,"  he  says,  "composed  of  Roman  Ar- 
cadians and  Delia  Crusca  academicians,  ])rofessors,  and 
pedants,  persisted  in  producing  cold,  laborious  imitations, 
without  life,  spirit,  or  purpose ;  the  second,  founding  their 
new  literature  on  no  other  basis  than  their  individual 
fancy,  lost  themselves  in  fantastic  mediaeval  k'gends,  un- 
felt  hymns  to  the  Virgin,  and  unreal  metrical  despair,  or 
any  other  whim  of  the  passing  hour,  which  might  ])re- 
sent  itself  to  their  minds;  intolerant  of  every  tyranny, 
but  ignorant  also  of  the  sacredness  of  the  law  whicli  gov- 
erns art  as  well  as  every  other  thing.  And  it  is  a  part 
of  this  law,  that  all  true  art  must  either  sum  up  and  ex- 
press the  life  of  a  closing  epoch,  or  announce  and  proclaim 
the  life  of  the  epoch  destined  to  succeed  it.  True  art  is 
not  tli(^  caprice  of  this  or  that  individual ;  it  is  a  solemn 
page  either  of  history  or  prophecy ;  and  when  —  as  always 
in'Dante,  and  occasicmally  in  Byron  —  it  combines  and 
harmonizes  this  double  mission,  it  reaches  the  higiiest 
summit  of  power.  Now,  amongst  us  Italians,  no  other 
than  the  j)rophetic  form  of  art  was  ]>ossil)le.  For  three 
centuries  we  had  been  deprived  of  all  spontaneous  indi- 
vidual life,  and  our  existence  had  been  that  of  forgetful 
slaves,    deriving    all    things    from    the    foreigner.      Art, 


386  THE   DAWN   OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

therefore,  could  only  arise  again  amongst  us  to  inscribe  a 
maledictory  epitaph  upon  those  three  centuries,  and  sing 
the  canticle  of  the  future. 

"But  to  do  this,  it  was  necessary  to  interrogate  the 
slumbering,  latent,  and  unconscious  life  of  our  people ;  to 
lay  the  hand  upon  the  half -frozen  heart  of  the  nation ;  to 
count  its  rare  pulsations,  and  reverently  learn  therefrom 
the  purpose  and  duty  of  Italian  genius.  The  special  bias 
and  tendency  of  individual  inspiration  required  to  be 
nourished  by  the  aspiration  of  the  collective  life  of  Italy ; 
even  as  flowers,  the  poetry  of  the  earth,  derive  their  sep- 
arate variety  of  tint  and  beauty  from  a  soil  which  is  com- 
mon to  all.  But  the  collective  life  of  Italy  was  uncertain 
and  indefinite;  it  lacked  a  centre,  oneness  of  ideal,  and 
all  regular  and  organized  mode  of  manifestation.  Art, 
therefore,  could  reveal  itself  among  us  by  fits,  in  isolated 
and  volcanic  outbursts.  It  was  incapable  of  revealing 
itself  in  regular  and  progressive  development,  similar  to 
the  gradual  evolution  of  vegetable  life  in  the  New  World, 
wherein  the  separate  trees  continue  to  mingle  their 
branches,  until  they  form  the  gigantic  unity  of  the  forest. 
Without  a  counti-y  and  without  liberty,  we  might,  per- 
haps, produce  some  prophets  of  art,  but  no  vital  art. 
Therefore  it  was  better  for  us  to  consecrate  our  lives  to 
the  solution  of  the  problem,  —  Are  we  to  have  a  country  ? 
and  turn  at  once  to  the  political  question.  If  we  were 
successful,  the  art  of  Italy  would  bloom  and  flourish  over 
our  graves.  .  .  .  The  ideas  awakened  in  April,  1821, 
were  still  burning  within  me,  and  determined  my  renun- 
ciation of  the  career  of  literature  for  the  more  direct  path 
of  political  action.  And  this  was  my  first  great  sacrifice. 
A  thousand  visions  of  historical  dramas  and  romances 
floated  before  my  mental  eye,  —  artistic  images  that  ca- 
ressed my  spirit,  as  visions  of  gentle  maidens  soothe  the 
soul  of  the  lonely -hearted.  The  natural  bias  of  my  mind 
was  very  different  from  that  which  has  been  forced  upon 


CONSPIRACY   GETS    ITS   LEADER.  887 

me  by  the  times  in  which  I  have  lived,  and  the  shame  of 
our  degradation."  ^ 

What  is  there  in  life  comparable  to  the  devotion  of  a 
young  soul  to  whom  the  Spirit  has  intrusted  a  mission 
which  shall  be  dearer  to  him  than  ease  or  fame,  than 
friends'  or  parents'  or  woman's  love?  That  command 
draws  him  with  the  majesty  and  beauty  of  truth;  from 
beyond  space  and  time,  from  Eternity,  it  shines  upon 
him,  always  new,  yet  as  old,  as  unchangeable  as  Eternity 
itself;  it  sanctifies  him  as  the  champion,  not  of  a  personal 
design,  but  of  a  great  cause;  and  it  endues  him,  being 
young,  with  unquestioning  faith  and  the  bloom  and  buoy- 
ancy of  hope.  Mazzini,  having  thus  early  beheld  the 
message  written  in  radiance  upon  his  soul,  renounced  all 
to  obey  that,  lie  now  wrote  articles  which,  althougli 
ostensibly  only  criticisms  of  books,  were  more  and  more 
impregnated  by  his  political  ideal.  They  brought  him 
the  acquaintance  of  patriots  who,  like  himself,  cherished 
the  hope  of  making  literature  the  vehicle  of  their  polit- 
'  ical  education ;  and  then  the  journals  in  which  they  were 
published  were  suppressed  by  the  too  wary  government. 
Mazzini  joined  the  Carbonari,  not  without  suspecting 
that,  under  their  complex  symbolism  and  hierarchical 
mysteries  they  concealed  a  fatal  lack  of  harmony,  decision, 
and  faith;  but,  he  says,  they  "were  men  wlio,  defying 
alike  excommunication  and  capital  punishment,  had  the 
persistent  energy  ever  to  persevere  and  to  weave  a  fresh 
web  eacli  time  the  old  one  was  broken.  And  this  was 
enough  to  induce  me  to  join  my  name  and  labor  to 
theirs."^  After  his  initiation,  which  was  simpler  than 
usual,  a  friend  congratulated  him  on  his  having  been 
spared  the  usual  terrific  ordeal.  Mazzini  smiled,  where- 
upon tlie  friend  asked  him  wliat  he  would  have  done  liad 
he  been  recjuired,  as  others  liad  been,  to  fire  ot^  in  liis 
own  ear  a  j)istol  which  had  previously  Ix'eii  h)a(h'(l  beft)re 
>  Miizzini,  i.  (>-l».  -  Ihid.  14. 


388  THE    DAWN    OF   ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

his  eyes.  "I  replied  that  I  should  have  refused,"  Maz- 
zini  answered,  "telling  the  initiators  that  either  there  was 
some  valve  in  the  interior  of  the  pistol  into  which  the  bul- 
let fell,  —  in  which  case  the  affair  was  a  farce  unworthy 
of  both  of  us,  —  or  the  bvillet  had  really  remained  in  the 
stock;  and  in  that  case  it  struck  me  as  somewhat  absurd 
to  call  upon  a  man  to  fight  for  his  country,  and  make  it 
his  first  duty  to  blow  out  the  few  brains  God  had  vouch- 
safed to  him."i  As  he  became  better  acquainted  with 
Carbonarism,  his  conviction  grew  stronger  that  no  perma- 
nent good  could  be  achieved  by  it. 

The  approach  of  the  revolution  in  France  now  redoubled 
the  activity  of  the  Piedmontese  conspirators.  Mazzini 
went  on  a  secret  mission  to  Tuscany,  and  shortly  after 
his  return  to  Genoa  he  was  betrayed  by  a  treacherous 
informer  to  the  police.  "Your  son  has  a  bad  habit  of 
thinking  too  much,  and  of  taking  solitary  walks  at  night," 
was  the  remark  made  by  the  police  to  Mazzini 's  father, 
when  he  asked  why  the  young  man  had  been  arrested. 
For  many  months  he  was  confined  in  an  upper  cell  of  the ' 
fortress  of  Savona,  from  the  little  grated  window  of  which 
he  could  look  out  upon  only  "the  sea  and  the  sky,  — two 
symbols  of  the  infinite  and,  except  the  Alps,  the  sublimest 
things  in  nature."  That  imprisonment  at  Savona  was  to 
Mazzini  what  the  year's  concealment  in  the  Wartburg  had 
been  to  Luther,  —  a  period  for  self-examination  whereby 
he  classified  the  motives  which  had  hitherto  led  him,  and 
deduced  from  them  the  creed  which  he  was  to  profess 
through  life.  The  seeds  of  all  the  principles,  which  dur- 
ing more  than  forty  years  he  preached  and  reiterated  in 
many  forms,  had  all  taken  root  by  his  twenty-second 
year,  when  the  door  of  his  fortress-prison  closed  behind 
him. 

Mazzini' s  political  and  social  doctrines  had  their  source 
in  morals.      Thi-oughout  and  above  all  worlds  he  acknow- 

1  Mazzini,  i.  10. 


CONSPIRACY    GETS    ITS    LEADER.  389 

ledged  one  Supreme  Unity,  —  God.  Catholicism,  he  de- 
clared, was  dead;  it  could  no  longer  satisfy  either  the 
devout  heart  or  the  reasoning  mind.  "1  felt  that  au- 
thority, true,  righteous,  and  holy  authority,  —  the  search 
after  which,  wliether  conscious  or  not,  is  the  fact  of  our 
human  life,  and  which  is  only  irrationally  denied  by  those 
who  confound  it  with  its  false  semblance  or  shadow,  and 
imagine  they  have  abolished  God  himself,  when  they  have 
l)ut  abolished  an  idol,  —  I  felt  that  authority  had  van- 
ished and  become  extinct  in  Europe,  and  that  for  the 
reason  no  power  of  initiative  existed  in  any  of  the  peo- 
ples of  Europe."^  To  correspond  to  the  divine  Unity, 
he  argued,  there  must  be  unity  among  mankind :  the  hu- 
man race,  distributed  among  so  many  peoples,  various  in 
hue  and  intelligence  and  faith,  is  yet  interpenetrated  and 
inclosed  by  a  common  humanity;  those  differences  of 
feature  and  belief  are  only  external,  as  of  vessels,  large 
or  small,  crf)()k(.>(l  or  upright,  on  which  diverse  forms  have 
been  modeled  or  patterns  jiainted,  but  all  containing,  in 
greater  or  smaller  quantities,  tlie  same  holy  water,  the 
same  divine  essence.  Scanning  history,  Mazzini  dis- 
cerned that  the  Past  had  sufficed  to  evoke  tlie  individual 
from  the  brute  shapeless  mass;  here  and  there,  in  differ- 
ent lands  and  ages,  a  few  great  men  had  risen  to  be  tlie 
wonder  and  example  of  their  fellows;  but  tht>  ])uri)ose 
of  creation  is  not  attained  in  the  (U'veh^pment  ot'  a  few 
sui)reme  men,  wlio  live  isolated  from,  and  often  at  tlie 
expense  of,  the  niultitude.  They  are  really  but  the  first 
to  emerge  from  chaos:  all  must  follow  them  till  chaos  is 
blotted  out.  It  is  the  sum  of  all  the  individuals,  anil  not 
th(!  value  of  a  ])artieular  unit,  to  enhance  which  ])rogress 
strains.  Each  tribe,  each  nation,  is  a  larger  individual, 
and  just  as  any  man  singly  must  have  freedom  to  exercise 
the  })owers  which  belong  t)  him  alone,  so  must  a  nation 
be  free.  But  true  freedom  does  not  consist  in  sellish 
'   Ma/.ziiii,  i,  ;!<!. 


390  THE   DAWN   OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

license  to  act  regardless  of  the  profit  and  needs  of  oth- 
ers, but  in  cooperation  with  others,  deriving  strength 
from  them,  and  repaying  it,  from  the  store  peculiar  to 
each. 

"  All  are  needed  by  each  one .: 
Nothing  is  good  or  fair  alone." 

The  French  Revolution  proclaimed  the  Rights  of  Man ; 
it  warned  a  world  in  which  a  little  group  of  sovereigns, 
nobles,  and  priests  were  masters,  and  all  the  others  were 
slaves,  that  every  man,  however  humble,  has  an  indefea- 
sible right  to  his  own  person  and  life.  In  brief,  the 
French  Revolution  was  the  assertion  of  Individualism, 
which  hereditary  despots  and  privileged  aristocrats  had 
for  centuries  ignored  or  striven  to  repress.  But  Individ- 
ualism is  only  a  corner-stone  on  which  true  civilization  — 
a  society  at  once  just  and  enlightened  —  is  to  be  raised : 
above  the  Rights  of  Man  are  the  Duties  of  Man,  which 
bind  the  individual  to  the  community,  and  teach  him  that 
his  private  welfare  depends  upon  the  general  welfare,  and 
that  he  best  serves  himself  who  serves  his  fellows  best. 
Thus  we.  rise  from  the  plane  of  mere  legality,  which  is 
selfish  and  only  zealous  for  its  own,  to  the  sphere  of  mor- 
als, where  the  individual  renounces  his  partial  good  for 
the  sake  of  that  general  and  inclusive  good,  wherein,  if 
he  but  look  deep  enough,  he  shall  see  his  own  real  pros- 
perity. But  this  is  as  true  for  nations  as  for  each  several 
citizen ;  since  a  nation  is  only  a  larger  family,  and  in  the 
same  way  that  all  the  families  of  a  city  make  up  that  city, 
so  all  the  nations  of  the  earth  make  up  the  human  race. 
Hitherto,  there  has  been  enmity  among  them ;  many  have 
not  yet  reached  the  level  of  legality;  none  has  adopted 
morality  to  be  the  guide  of  all  its  dealings  with  its  neigh- 
bors ;  nevertheless,  the  solidarity  of  the  race  cannot  be 
denied,  though  as  yet  we  recognize  it  chiefly  by  negative 
signs.  We  perceive  that  when  one  nation  injures  another, 
whether  by  war  or  by  commercial  selfishness,  all  are  in- 


CONSPIRACY   GETS   ITS    LEADER.  391 

jured ;  the  gain  that  comes  from  unjust  victory  is  illusive, 
—  the  robber  has  his  gold,  but  at  the  expense  of  integ- 
rity; the  robbed  is  deprived  of  his  purse  but  not  of  his 
character.  Servitude  debases  both  master  and  slave. 
But  this  very  reaction  and  interrelation  of  harm  proves 
the  underlying  unity  of  mankind;  did  it  not  exist,  the 
wrongs  done  in  one  hemisphere  would  not  affect  the  in- 
habitants in  the  other;  and  since  this  reciprocity  inheres 
in  international  evils,  it  must  inhere  in  international 
benefits;  unselfishness  between  one  nation  and  another 
must  ennoble  both.  To  replace  enmity  by  friendship, 
greed  by  generosity,  mutual  suspicion  by  trustfulness,  and 
the  desire  to  injure  by  the  desire  to  help;  to  feel  common 
obligations  and  the  joy  of  a  common  service ;  to  be  suf- 
fused and  quickened  by  the  spirit  which  flows  through  all 
mankind,  rather  than  to  stand  apart  and  rely  upon  tlie 
fitf id  currents  of  selfishness,  —  these  shoidd  be  the  ideals, 
these  are  the  conditions  of  health  and  progress,  of  the 
i-ace  not  less  than  of  tlie  individual.  And  when  Collec- 
tive Humanity  shall  have  reached  this  altitude,  then,  and 
not  till  then,  can  it  fulfil  its  mission,  and  rise  to  achieve- 
ments which  now  transcend  the  visions  of  the  enthusiast 
and  the  poet's  dream. 

Little  did  the  jailer  of  Savona  suspect  that  the  yotmg 
prisoner,  wliom  he  locked  in  that  ui)per  cell  l)ctwcen  sky 
and  sea,  was  entertaining  in  his  solitude  by  day  and  night 
such  companions  as  these  thoughts:  yet  it  was  even  so. 
Mazziui,  liowcvcr,  could  not  rest  in  abstractions;  lie  could 
not  be  satisfit'd  merely  to  fondle  in  imagination  that  en- 
chanting ])rospe('t,  or  to  give  his  creed  lii)-s('rvice  only. 
He  felt  tli»;  zealot's  need  of  doing,  and  as  lie  had  the  gift 
j)eculiar  to  the  Italians  of  conceiving  vastlv  and  express- 
ing vividly,  he  set  liim  to  ap])ly  his  philosopliv  to  the  im- 
mediate needs  of  his  country.  "■  AN C  could,  and  th(M'efore 
we  oii(//it  to,  struggle,"  was  the  conviction  he  could  not 
shake  off.      But  how  stniu<rle?  and  for  what?     For  iiuie- 


392  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

pendence,  for  liberty,  and  for  unity.  Italy  could  not 
take  her  place  among  the  nations  until  she  was  indepen- 
dent of  her  foreign  masters ;  but  even  though  she  expelled 
these,  she  might  still  be  under  the  dominion  of  native 
autocrats,  —  therefore  she  must  be  free  as  well  as  inde- 
pendent ;  still,  liberty  would  fail  to  shed  its  full  blessing 
upon  her,  unless  she  were  united,  —  therefore  a  federa- 
tion of  free  Italian  States  would  not  suffice ;  there  must 
be  a  complete  union  of  all  the  Italians,  before  the  nation 
could  enjoy  a  life  at  once  national  and  individual.  So 
Mazzini  adopted  Republican  and  Unitarian  principles  as 
the  bases  of  his  system.  lie  would  have  no  compromise 
with  monarchy ;  the  tendency  of  the  modern  world  being, 
he  perceived,  towards  republicanism.  Even  were  a  mon- 
archy, in  spite  of  local  jealousy  and  foreign  interference, 
established  in  Italy,  it  could  be  only  temporary ;  in  a  little 
while  a  second  revolution  would  be  necessary  to  create  the 
inevitable  republic.  lie  would  not  deal  with  paltering 
diplomacy,  that  servile  instrmnent  which  kings  used  to 
hide  their  weakness  and  delay  their  fall.  Only  a  repub- 
lic could  unite  all  popular  sentiments ;  federalism  would 
subject  Italy,  as  Switzerland  was  subjected,  to  foreign 
influence,  revive  petty  feuds,  "divide  the  great  national 
arena  into  a  number  of  smaller  arenas,  and  by  thus  open- 
ing a  path  for  every  paltry  ambition,  become  a  source  of 
aristocracy." 

Having  thus  clearly  defined  his  aim,  Mazzini  proceeded 
to  consider  the  method  best  fitted  for  attaining  it.  The 
open  propaganda  of  his  Republican  and  Unitarian  doc- 
trines was  of  course  impossible ;  it  must  be  carried  on  by 
a  secret  organization.  But  he  was  disgusted  with  the 
existing  secret  societies :  they  lacked  harmony,  they  lacked 
faith,  they  had  no  distinct  purpose :  their  Masonic  mum- 
meries were  childish  and  farcical ;  their  irresponsible  gov- 
ernment had  led  to  disunion  and  defeat;  they  had  been 
now  too  rash  and  now  too  dilatory ;  they  had  been  nurse- 


CONSPIRACY   GETS    ITS    LEADER.  893 

ries  for  the  criminal,  the  selfish,  and  the  vindictive,  in- 
stead of  for  the  patriotic  alone ;  they  had,  at  most,  been 
able  to  agitate,  but  not  to  act.  Therefore,  Mazzini  would 
have  none  of  them ;  he  would  organize  a  new  secret  soci- 
ety, and  call  it  Vouny  Itali/,  whose  princijjles  should  be 
plainly  understood  by  every  one  of  its  members. 

It  was  to  be  composed  of  men  under  forty,  in  order  to 
secure  the  most  energetic  and  disinterested  members,  and 
to  avoid  the  influence  of  older  men,  who,  trained  by  the 
past  generation,  were  not  in  touch  with  the  asj)irations 
and  needs  of  the  new.  It  was  to  awaken  the  Pe()i)le,  the 
bone  and  sinew  of  the  nation ;  whereas  the  earlier  sects 
had  relied  too  much  on  the  upper  and  middle  classes, 
whose  traditions  and  interests  were  either  too  aristocratic 
or  too  commercial.  Roman  Catholicism  had  ceased  to  be 
spiritual ;  it  no  longer  purified  and  uplifted  the  hearts  of 
the  Italians;  the  educated,  if  they  submitted  to  it,  did  so 
from  custom,  and  not  from  faith ;  the  ignorant  accepted 
it  blindly,  and  their  superstitious  worship  debased  their 
character.  But  without  a  i"eligi(jn  which  should  be  real 
and  elevating,  which  should  regenerate  their  morals  and 
ins])ire  in  them  a  deep  and  imperative  sense  of  duty,  the 
Italians  could  not  be  led  to  a  ])ermanent  })olitical  regen- 
eration. Young  Italy  aimed,  therefore,  to  substitute  for 
the  mediaeval  dogmas  and  patent  idolatries  of  Koine  a 
religion  based  on  Reason,  and  so  sini})le  as  to  be  within 
the  comprehension  of  the  humblest  peasant.  One  (iod 
above,  and  below  mankind  throiigii  which  He  embodies 
till'  Infinite  Nature  in  tlie  Finite;  all  men  His  creatures 
and  His  children, — therefore,  all  brothers,  in  each  of 
whom  there  is  some  s])ark  of  His  divine  essence;  (iod  to 
be  worsliiped  freely  and  (lii'cctly,  without  the  interposi- 
tion of  saints,  and  empty  rituals,  and  arrogant  })riests,  — 
to  be  worshiped,  moreover,  in  men's  deeds  and  not  in 
mere  words,  and  to  be  worshiped  best  bv  building  up 
a   noble,   reverent,  and    unseliish    character,  which,    ever 


394  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

expanding,  shall  afford  a  dwelling  vaster  and  yet  more 
vast  for  Love  and  Virtue,  By  such  simple  yet  universal 
tenets,  affirmed  rather  than  argued,  Mazzini  hoped  to 
arouse  in  his  countrymen  ■  that  religious  sense  which  ap- 
prehends duty,  and  is  at  once  the  seat  of  a  rational  faith 
and  the  source  of  worthy  deeds. 

Recojjnizinof  in  this  fashion  the  elemental  need  of  mor- 
als,  and  providing  for  disseminating  a  knowledge  of  them, 
Mazzini  elaborated  the  political  creed  of  Young  Italy. 
Education  and  insurrection  were  the  two  means  to  be  em- 
ployed. "Education,"  he  said, "must  ever  be  directed  to 
teach  by  example,  word,  and  pen  the  necessity  of  insur- 
rection. Insurrection, whenever  it  can  be  realized,  must 
be  so  conducted  as  to  render  it  a  means  of  national  edu- 
cation. .  .  .  Convinced  that  Italy  is  strong  enough  to  free 
herself  without  external  help ;  that,  in  order  to  found  a 
nationality,  it  is  necessary  that  the  feeling  and  conscious- 
ness of  a  nationality  should  exist;  and  that  it  can  never 
be  created  by  any  revolution,  however  triumphant,  if 
achieved  by  foreign  arms;  convinced,  moreover,  that 
every  insurrection  that  looks  abroad  for  assistance  must 
remain  dependent  upon  the  state  of  things  abroad,  and 
can  therefore  never  be  certain  of  victory,  — -  Young  Italy 
is  determined  that  while  it  will  ever  be  ready  to  profit  by 
the  favorable  course  of  events  abroad,  it  will  neither  allow 
the  character  of  the  insurrection  nor  the  choice  of  the 
movement  to  be  governed  by  them."  ^  Insurrection  must 
lead  to  revolution,  upon  the  successful  termination  of 
which  "every  authority  will  bow  down  before  the  National 
Council,  the  sole  source  of  authority  in  the  State."  The 
tnie  method  of  warfare  for  all  nations  desirous  of  eman- 
cipating themselves  from  a  foreign  yoke  is  by  guerrilla 
bands,  which  supply  the  want  of  a  regular  army,  call 
the  greatest  number  of  elements  into  the  field,  and  yet 
may  be  sustained  by  the  smallest  number.     This  metliod 

^  Mazzini,  i,  10(>-8. 


CONSPIRACY   GETS   ITS   LEADER.  395 

"forms  the  military  education  of  the  people  and  conse- 
crates every  foot  of  the  native  soil  by  the  memory  of  some 
warlike  deed ;  "  it  "opens  a  field  of  activity  for  every  local 
capacity,  forces  the  enemy  into  an  unaccustomed  method 
of  battle ;  avoids  the  evil  consequences  of  a  general  de- 
feat; secures  the  national  war  from  the  risk  of  treason, 
and  has  the  advantage  of  not  confining  it  within  any 
defined  and  determinate  basis  of  operations.  .  .  .  The 
national  army,  recruited  with  all  possible  solicitude,  and 
organized  with  all  possible  care,  will  complete  the  work 
begun  by  the  war  of  organization."^  Every  member  of 
Young  Italy,  therefore,  was  bidden  to  provide  himself 
with  a  gun  and  a  dagger ;  the  colors  of  the  society  were 
white,  red,  and  green;  the  banner  bore  on  one  side  the 
words,  "Liberty,  Equality,  Humanity,"  on  the  other, 
"Unity,  Independence."  "God  and  People"  was  the 
watchword  which  summed  up  the  Mazziniau  system. 

There  were  two  degrees  in  the  society,  the  "affiliators  " 
and  the  "affiliated,"  and  in  order  to  prevent  widespread 
treachery  it  was  divided  into  groups  of  ten,  only  one 
member  of  each  ten  being  cognizant  of  the  members  of  the 
next  group.  The  novice,  duly  informed  of  the  purposes 
of  Young  Italy,  took  his  oath  "in  the  name  of  (rod  and 
of  Italy ;  in  the  name  of  all  the  martyrs  of  the  holy  Ital- 
ian cause  who  have  fallen  l)eneath  fori'ign  and  doincstic 
tyranny;  by  tlie  duties  which  bind  me  to  the  land  wh«M-ein 
God  has  placed  nio,  and  to  the  brothers  wliom  God  has 
given  me;  by  the  love  —  innate  in  all  men  —  1  l)ear  to 
the  country  that  gave  my  mother  birth,  and  will  Ix^  tlie 
home  of  my  cliildrcn:  by  the  liatrrd — ^  innat(>  in  all  men 
—  I  bear  to  evil,  injustice,  usur])ati()n,  and  arbitrary 
rule;  by  the  blusli  tliat  rises  to  my  l)r()\v  wlicn  I  stand 
before  tlie  citizens  of  other  lands,  to  know  that  1  have  no 
rights  of  citi/cnshij),  no  country,  and  no  national  flag; 
by  the  aspii-ation  that  thiills  my  soul  towards  that  liberty 

1    M:i/./.ini,  i.   H»'.>. 


396  THE   DAWN    OF   ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

for  which  it  was  created,  and  is  impotent  to  exert,  — 
towards  the  good  it  was  created  to  strive  after,  and  is 
impotent  to  achieve  in  the  silence  and  isolation  of  slavery ; 
by  the  memory  of  our  former  greatness,  and  the  sense  of 
our  present  degradation ;  by  the  tears  of  Italian  mothers 
for  their  sons  dead  on  the  scaffold,  in  prison,  or  in  exile ; 
by  the  suffering  of  the  millions."  ^  On  these  solemn  facts 
the  novice  vowed  to  further  the  objects  of  the  Society,  to 
keep  its  secrets,  and  to  obey  his  superiors. 

With  the  idea  of  Young  Italy  in  his  head,  and  the  de- 
sire of  immediate  action  in  his  heart,  Mazzini  was  released 
from  the  prison  of  Savona,  no  sufficient  evidence  having 
been  procured  to  warrant  his  longer  detention.  But  the 
Piedmontese  government,  dimly  aware  that  he  was  a 
young  man  of  dangerous  tendencies,  insisted  that  he  should 
either  consent  to  live  under  police  surveillance  in  some 
small  Piedmontese  town,  or  should  go  into  exile.  He 
chose  the  latter,  and  withdrew  to  Marseilles.  On  the  ac- 
cession of  Charles  Albert,  he  addressed  to  the  young  king 
a  letter  in  which  he  stated  the  needs  of  Italy,  and  having 
exhorted  Charles  Albert  to  recognize  and  satisfy  them,  he 
closed  with  these  words :  "  Rest  assured  that  posterity  will 
either  hail  your  name  as  tliat  of  the  greatest  of  men,  or 
the  last  of  Italian  tyrants.  Take  your  choice."  The  ap- 
peal, published  anonymously,  was  clandestinely  scattered 
through  Piedmont,  and  coming  to  the  notice  of  the  King 
and  his  ministers,  called  forth  an  order  to  have  its  author 
arrested  should  he  be  found  in  Charles  Albert's  domains. 
During  that  same  spring,  1831,  Mazzini  went  to  Corsica 
to  take  part  in  the  proposed  descent  on  Tuscany;  but 
when  that  expedition  coUajJsed,  and  Austrian  intervention 
had  crushed  the  revolution  in  the  Papal  States,  he  re- 
turned to  Marseilles  and  set  vigorously  to  work  to  organ- 
ize the  society  of  Young  Italy.  Fellow-exiles  aitled  him 
in  printing  manifestoes  and  a  newspaper,  which  were  then 

1  Ma/^zini,  i,  no. 


CONSPIRACY   GETS    ITS   LEADER.  397 

smuggled  in  barrels  of  pitch  or  pumice-stone  into  Italy, 
and  there  circulated  by  trusty  coadjutors.  In  Genoa,  the 
Ruffini  brothers, — the  dearest  comrades  of  Mazzini's 
youth,  —  together  with  Campanella,  Benza,  and  a  few 
other  friends,  undertook  the  work  of  propagandism : 
Leghorn  was  the  Tuscan  centre,  with  Guerrazzi,  Bini,  and 
Henry  Mayer  at  its  head,  and  there  were  other  commit- 
tees in  Bologna  and  Rome  and  Naples. 

The  doctrines  of  the  new  sect  spread,  but  since  secret 
societies  give  the  census-taker  no  account  of  their  mem- 
bership, we  cannot  cite  figures  to  illustrate  the  growth 
of  Young  Italy.  Contrary  to  Mazzini's  exjiectations,  it 
was  recruited,  not  so  much  from  the  People,  as  from  the 
Middle  Class,  the  professional  men,  and  the  tradesmen; 
and  as  might  be  expected,  it  was  the  political  rather  than 
the  religious  ideas  of  the  sect  that  drew  adherents  to  it. 
The  Carbonari  and  their  kindred  conspirators  were  dis- 
credited by  the  failure  of  tlie  last  revolution  :  it  began  to 
be  felt  that  their  methods  were  wrong,  and  their  promot- 
ers superannuated ;  so  the  more  zealous  gladly  turned  to 
the  new  society,  whose  aims  were  distinct  and  whose  mem- 
bers were  young  and  enthusiastic.  But  the  very  definite- 
ness  of  Mazzini's  propositions  helped  to  make  clear  the 
lines  of  separation,  liitherto  l)lurred,  between  tlie  Lil)- 
eral  parties.  Young  Italy  insisted  on  a  re[)ublie  witlmut 
compromise;  but  there  were  many  Liberals  wlio,  wliile 
desiring  tlie  independence  and  freedom  of  tlieir  countrv, 
were  still  favoralde  to  a  monarelucal  govei-nment  or  to  a 
federation,  and  these  i-efused  to  associate  themselves  with 
the  Rej)ubli('ans.  They  eanu*  to  be  known  as  ModiM-- 
ates,  and  to  be  (lespis(>(l  l)y  the  Mazziiiiaus,  who  regarded 
them  as  wavei-ers  and  temporizers. 

The  Piedmontese  government  soon  ])erceived  that  a 
fresh  conspiracy  was  gathering,  and  having  traced  it  to 
Marseilles  and  to  Maz/ini.  it  re(pieste(l  the  Ficneh  gov- 
ernment t*^  expel  him  from  France.     This  Louis  Phili[)[te 


398  THE   DAWN    OF   ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

consented  to  do.  Mazzini  was  warned  that  he  should  be 
escorted  to  the  frontier.  But  on  the  day  appointed,  the 
soldiers  marched  off  with  one  of  his  friends  who  resem- 
bled him,  while  he  remained  unharmed,  to  continue  for 
more  than  a  year  his  editorial  work  at  Marseilles.  He 
and  his  colleagues,  unable  longer  to  resist  the  desire  to 
test  their  principle  by  action,  planned  an  invasion  of  Sa- 
voy, which  they  had  to  abandon,  and  then  they  concerted 
with  their  Piedmontese  friends  a  general  insurrection, 
which,  breaking  out  simultaneously  in  many  parts  of  the 
Kingdom  of  Piedmont,  should  sweep  on  through  North- 
ern and  Central  Italy.  Unfortunately,  before  the  plot 
was  mature,  two  soldiers  fell  into  a  quarrel  at  Genoa,  and, 
when  arrested,  one  of  them  exclaimed  angrily,  that  if  he 
would  he  could  tell  something  that  wovild  make  his  enemy 
suffer.  The  police  were  roused  by  this  hint,  and  erelong 
they  had  a  clue  to  the  proposed  outbreak.  Many  arrests 
followed,  and  the  government  issued  a  proclamation, 
stating  that  it  had  discovered  the  secret  of  the  wicked 
men  who  aimed  at  destroying  "the  altar  and  the  throne." 
The  conspirators,  according  to  this  manifesto,  were 
neither  "Catholics,  nor  Protestants,  nor  Christians,  nor 
Jews,  nor  Mussulmans,  nor  Brahmins,"  but  new  Catilines 
who  would  adopt  the  most  hideous  means  —  fire,  dagger, 
poison  —  to  accomplish  their  designs,  and  who  intended 
to  blow  up  the  magazines  of  all  the  principal  cities.^ 
We  suspect  that  the  reactionaries  and  Jesuits  who  sur- 
rounded Charles  Albert  exaggerated  the  danger  in  order 
to  get  his  consent  to  the  terrible  punishment  they  pro- 
posed; indeed,  one  of  them  is  said  to  have  remarked, 
"We  must  give  his  Majesty  a  taste  of  blood." 

However  that  may  be,  sanguinary  commissions  were 
speedily  appointed,  and  they  wa-ought  speedy  vengeance. 
History  records  the  names  Cimella,  Gattinara,  and  Gala- 
teri  as  the  agents  of  a  persecution  not  less  merciless  than 

1  Brofferio  :  Storia  del  Piemonte  (Turin,  1850).  part  III,  i,  41-3. 


CONSPIRACY   GETS   ITS   LEADER.  399 

that  of  the  Butcher  of  Modena  himself.  At  Chambery, 
Genoa,  Alessandria,  and  smaller  towns,  prisoners  were 
passed  from  torture  to  torture,  to  end  on  the  scaffold  or 
in  the  galleys.  Some  were  enticed  to  confess  by  being 
shown  the  counterfeit  confessions  of  their  comrades ;  some 
were  imprisoned  with  spies,  to  whom  they  unwittingly 
confided  their  secret;  some  were  shaken  by  harmful  food 
or  drugs,  till  their  reason  tottered  and  their  self-command 
deserted  them;  some  were  terrified  by  groans  and  strange 
sounds,  uttered  night  after  night  in  the  corridors  of  their 
prison;  some  heard  shots  fired  beneath  their  windows, 
and  supposed  that  their  friends  had  been  executed ;  some 
were  importuned  by  the  prayers  of  their  parents,  wives, 
and  children.  One  youth,  James  Kuffini,  finding  that 
his  resolution  was  weakening  under  the  strain  of  horrors, 
and  dreading  lest  he  miglit  betray  his  accomplices,  tore  a 
piece  of  sheet-iron  from  the  door  of  his  cell,  sharpened  it 
on  the  stone  floor,  and  cut  his  throat.  Another  victim, 
Vochieri,  having  resisted  all  terrors  and  coaxings,  was 
led  out  to  be  shot,  his  executioners  taking  care  that  he 
should  j)ass  his  own  house  on  the  way  to  death.  In  a  few 
weeks,  eleven  alleged  conspirators  had  been  executed, 
many  more  had  been  sentenced  to  the  galleys,  and  others, 
who  had  esca})ed,  were  condemned  in  contumacy.  Among 
the  men  who  fled  into  exile  at  this  time  were  two  of  wliom 
we  shall  hear  much  liereafter,  A^incent  Gioberti  and  Jo- 
sej)h  Garibaldi.  The  government  sealed  its  severity  by 
an  edict  threatening  any  one  wlio  introcbiced  or  circulated 
publications  hostile  to  tlie  ])rinci})les  of  monarchy  with 
the  galleys  for  from  two  to  five  years,  or  even  with  (U-ath, 
and  by  offering  a  rinvard  of  one  hundred  crowns  to  any 
informer.^ 

To  an  enthusiast   less   dctcnnincd    than   Maz/.ini,   this 
calamity   would   have  been  a  clicck  :   to   him,  liowcvci-.  it 

•    I>ri)fTi'rio, /.  f.  ■t;>-.")4  ;   I'ot^^^i,  ii, '.*l!-8  ;   (t;ilk'nj;;i,  iii,  ;l27->^  ;    (liialicrio, 
iii,  chap.  31*. 


400  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

was  a  spur.  Instead  of  abandoning  the  expedition 
against  Savoy,  he  worked  with  might  and  main  to  hurry 
it  on.  His  countrymen  at  home  had  trusted  in  the  coop- 
eration of  Young  Italy ;  they  had  been  surprised  and  pun- 
ished :  they  must  not  be  deserted.  Mazzini  counted  upon 
the  wrath  which  the  recent  cruelty  of  the  government  had 
stirred  up:  he  felt  bovuid  to  rush  to  the  rescue  of  the 
prisoners,  and  he  saw  in  Charles  Albert's  redoubled  tyr- 
anny a  stronger  reason  for  action.  He  accordingly  col- 
lected recruits  from  among  his  fellow-exiles,  —  Italians, 
Poles,  Germans,  and  Magyars,  —  and  expected  aid  from 
the  French  Republicans.  But  his  nondescript  forces, 
which  one  chronicler  estimated  at  a  thousand,  must  have 
a  soldier  at  their  head,  and  the  cry  being  for  Ramorino, 
that  general,  born  at  Nice,  but  recently  conspicuous  in 
the  Polish  revolution,  agreed  to  take  command  of  them. 
Mazzini,  while  lacking  confidence  in  him,  deferred  to  the 
jjopular  will,  and  gave  him  forty  thousand  francs  with 
which  to  go  to  Paris  and  buy  the  necessary  arms.  The 
attack  on  Savoy  was  to  be  made  at  the  end  of  October, 
1833,  but,  a  little  before  the  appointed  day,  Ramorino 
sent  word  that  he  needed  another  month's  preparation; 
when  that  elapsed,  he  asked  for  a  further  postponement. 
Finally,  as  January,  1834,  was  closing,  Mazzini,  who 
suspected  that  the  general  was  using  the  revolutionary 
funds  at  the  gaming-table,  sent  him  notice  that  the  blow 
must  be  struck  at  once,  for  the  recruits  collected  at  Ge- 
neva were  growing  disheartened,  the  funds  were  nearly 
exhausted,  and  it  was  evident  that  both  the  Swiss  and 
the  French  government  had  knowledge  of  their  designs. 
Ramorino  therefore  quitted  Paris,  and,  still  protesting 
that  it  was  folly  to  open  the  campaign  with  an  ill-equipped 
force,  he  took  command  of  one  column,  in  which  were 
fifty  Italians  and  twice  as  many  Poles,  that  was  to  enter 
Savoy  by  way  of  Annemasse.  A  second  column  had  or- 
ders to  push  on  from  Nyon ;  a  third,  starting  from  Lv- 


CONSPIRACY    GETS    ITS    LEADKK.  401 

ons,  was  to  march  towards  Chambery.  Mazzini,  with  a 
musket  on  his  shoulder,  accompanied  the  first  party.  To 
his  surprise,  the  peasants  showed  no  enthusiasm  when  the 
tricolor  flag  was  unfurled  and  the  invaders  shouted  "God 
and  People!  Liberty  and  the  Republic  I"  before  them. 
At  length  some  carabineers  and  a  platoon  of  troops  ap- 
peared. A  few  shots  were  fired.  JMazzini  fainted;  his 
comrades  dispersed  across  the  Swiss  border,  taking  him 
with  them.  AVhen  he  recovered  consciousness,  he  real- 
ized that  the  invasion  had  come  to  a  ludicrous  end.  His 
enemies  attributed  his  fainting  to  cowardice ;  he  himself 
explained  it  as  the  result  of  many  nights  of  sleeplessness, 
of  great  fatigue,  fever  and  cold,  and  he  charged  liamorino 
with  wilful  negligence.  Kamorino  retorted  that  he  had 
insisted  that  such  a  gang  of  visionaries  must  inevitably 
fail.  To  all  but  the  few  concerned  in  it,  this  first  venture 
of  Young  Italy  seemed  a  farce,  the  disproportion  between 
its  aim  and  its  achievement  was  so  enormous,  and  Maz- 
zini's  personal  collapse  was  so  ignominous.^ 

Nevertheless,  Italian  conspiracy  had  now  and  hence- 
forth that  head  for  lack  of  which  it  had  so  lonjj  floun- 
dered  amid  vague  and  contradictory  purposes.  Tlie 
young  Idealist  had  been  beaten  in  his  first  encounter  with 
obdurate  Reality,  but  he  was  not  discouraged.  His  was 
a  nature  which,  Antajus-like,  renewed  its  strength  with 
every  fall,  and  di-ew  from  defeat  the  conviction  that  he 
must  struggle  harder.  Now  began  in  earnest  that  "ai)os- 
tolate"  of  his,  which  he  laid  down  only  at  his  death. 
Young  Italy  was  established  beyond  the  chance  of  being 
destroyed  l)y  an  abortive  exjjcdition :  Young  Poland, 
Young  Hungary,  Young  Europe  itself.  sj)rang  up  after 
tlie  Mazzinian  ])attern;  the  Liberals  and  revolutionists  of 
the  Continent  felt  tliat  their  cause  was  International,  and 
in  their  afflietiini  tliey  fraterni/ed.  No  one  could  draw 
so  fair    and  reasonal)le    a    I'^topia   for   them   as  Mazzini 

'  Mazziui,  i,  .'JOrj-OS. 


402  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

drew;  no  one  could  so  fire  them  with  a  sense  of  duty, 
with  hope,  with  energy.  He  became  the  mainspring  of 
the  whole  machine  —  truly  an  infernal  machine  to  the 
autocrats  —  of  European  conspiracy.  The  redemption 
of  Italy  was  always  his  nearest  aim,  but  his  generous 
principle  reached  out  over  other  nations,  for  in  the  world 
that  he  proj^hesied  every  people  must  be  free. 

Proscribed  in  Piedmont,  expelled  from  Switzerland, 
denied  lodging  in  France,  he  took  refuge  in  London,  there 
to  direct,  amid  poverty  and  heartache,  the  whole  vast 
scheme  of  plots.  His  bread  he  earned  by  writing  critical 
and  literary  essays  for  the  English  reviews,  —  he  quickly 
mastered  the  English  language  so  as  to  use  it  with  remark- 
able vigor,  —  and  all  his  leisure  he  devoted  to  the  prepa- 
ration of  political  tracts,  and  to  correspondence  with 
numberless  confederates.  He  watched  the  symptoms  of 
every  part  of  Italy;  he  studied  the  map  and  laid  out 
campaigns;  he  shipped  arms  and  munition  to  various 
points;  he  indited  proclamations,  concerted  signals,  en- 
rolled volunteers,  instigated,  encouraged,  and  counseled. 
He  was  the  consulting  physician  for  all  the  revolutionary 
practitioners  of  Europe.  Those  who  were  not  his  parti- 
sans disparaged  his  influence,  asserting  that  he  was  onl}^ 
a  man  of  words ;  but  the  best  proof  of  his  power  lies  in 
the  anxiety  he  caused  monarchs  and  cabinets,  and  in  the 
precautions  they  took  to  guard  against  him.  Their  spies 
lurked  in  his  shadow;  they  even  induced  the  British 
postmaster-general  to  open  his  letters,  —  a  baseness 
which  prevents  the  name  of  Graham  from  being  forgotten ; 
they  sowed  reports  reeking  with  terrible  insinuations 
against  his  character  and  methods;  they  bade  their  sub- 
jects to  abhor  him  as  a  diabolical  incendiary  who  wished 
to  \i])set  thrones  and  altars,  and  who,  in  the  anarchy  that 
would  ensue,  would  let  loose  his  red-handed  followers  to 
ravish  and  plunder.  Mazzini  denied  the  charge  that  he 
approved  or  condoned  political  assassination,  although  he 


CONSPIRACY   GETS   ITS   LEADER.  403 

admitted  that  he  had  given  money  and  a  dagger  to  a 
young  fanatic,  Gallenga,  who  had  vowed  to  kill  Charles 
Albert.^  In  friendly  intercourse  he  was  so  gentle,  so 
unselfish,  so  insistent  in  matters  spiritual,  that  the  few 
persons  who  knew  him  well  could  not  believe  that  he 
would  descend  to  criminal  methods  in  order  to  compass 
his  reforms,  which  were  essentially  moral. 

Mazzini  and  Metternich !  For  nearly  twenty  years  they 
were  the  antipodes  of  European  politics.  One,  in  his 
London  garret,  poor,  despised,  yet  indomitable  and  sleej)- 
less,  sending  his  influence  like  an  electric  current  tlirough 
all  barriers  to  revivify  the  heart  of  Italy  and  of  Liberal 
Europe ;  the  other  in  his  Vienna  palace,  haughty,  famous, 
equally  alert  and  cunning,  with  all  material  and  hierarch- 
ical powers  to  aid  him,  shedding  over  Italy  and  over  Eu- 
rope his  upas-doctrines  of  torpor  and  decay  I  Rarely,  in- 
deed, has  a  period  rich  in  contrasts  seen  its  antagonistic 
extremes  made  flesh  in  two  such  men.  Then,  as  so 
often  before  in  human  history,  the  Champion  of  the  Past, 
—  arrogant,  materialist,  and  self-satisfied,  but  waning  — 
had  a  palace  to  his  dwelling,  while  the  Apostle  of  the  Fu- 
ture found  only  a  cheap  lodging  and  an  exile's  welcome 
in  a  foreign  land. 

^  Gallenga,  iii,  338-9 ;  Mazzini,  i,  347-52, 


CHAPTER  II. 

A   DECADE   OF   CONTRADICTIONS,  1833-43. 

Conspiracy  had  now  its  leader,  its  political  and  moral 
principles,  and  its  definite  aim.  No  member  of  Yomig 
Italy  could  plead  ignorance  of  the  cause  to  which  he  was 
pledged:  and  there  dropped  upon  him  from  time  to  time 
newspapers  and  tracts  full  of  brave  words  and  ethical 
counsel,  emanating  from  Mazzini.  But  Young  Italy, 
which  was  to  have  been  the  sec^  of  the  People,  failed  to 
stir  the  cloddish  peasantry  and  the  lowest  class  of  towns- 
men; master-artisans  and  professional  men,  and  espe- 
cially enthusiastic  students,  were  the  recruits  it  attracted. 
Conspiracy  had  its  head,  —  but  where  ?  In  London,  far 
removed  from  its  members.  The  distance  between  them 
was  too  great,  it  opened  too  broad  a  field  for  delays  and 
misunderstandings.  Young  Italy  might  make  converts 
so  rapidly  as  to  alarm  the  Italian  governments  and  to 
cause  Metternich  to  set  spies  on  Mazzini ;  but  it  could  not 
overcome  that  fatal  remoteness  between  the  head  and  the 
members. 

Autocracy,  for  its  part,  was  waking  up  to  the  unpleas- 
ant conviction  that  it  had  a  permanent  evil  to  contend 
with.  After  Waterloo,  it  had  thought  that  a  few  years 
of  vigilance  and  energy  would  suffice  to  exterminate  the 
last  offshoots  of  Liberalism.  The  French  Revolution  had 
failed ;  Napoleon  had  been  beaten ;  what  more  was  needed 
than  that  the  Old  Regime  should  diligently  weed  out  the 
tares  that  had  been  sown  between  1789  and  1815  ?  Once 
clear  the  garden,  and  the  old-fashioned  plants  would  grow 
undisturbed.     But  after  fifteen  years  of  incessant  weeding 


A    DECADE   OF   CONTRADICTIONS.  405 

and  trimming,  the  tares  still  flourished;  and  now  Auto- 
cracy began  to  realize  that  it  was  pitted  against  an  invis- 
ible Sower,  from  whose  hand  new  seeds  fell  as  fast  as  it 
destroyed  the  old.  The  "three  ghnious  days  of  July,"  and 
the  subsequent  revolutions,  taught  the  autocrats  that  the 
state  of  siege  and  political  quarantine,  which  they  had 
adopted  as  extraordinary  measures  against  what  they 
believed  would  be  a  passing  danger,  must  be  perpetu- 
ally maintained ;  for  the  danger  was  chronic,  and  it  con- 
stantly increased.  Not  a  few  turbulent  men,  but  a  Great 
Thought  was  their  adversary :  that  Thought  was  Liberty, 
and  under  the  guise  of  a  desire,  a  need,  or  a  duty,  it  kept 
the  nations  restless  and  their  oi)pressors  anxious. 

In  a  government  where  the  people  has  representatives 
to  express  its  will  and  frame  its  laws,  the  personality  of 
the  sovereign  is  usually  of  secondary  importance;  but 
in  an  autocracy,  the  character  of  the  sovereign  determines 
not  only  the  administration  but  also  tlie  social  life  of  the 
people,  to  a  degree  that  seems  exorbitant  if  we  reflect 
on  the  qiuiliflcations  of  most  monarchs.  And  a  nation 
proves  that  it  deserves  the  curse  of  despotism,  l)y  the 
significance  it  attaches  to  every  gesture  and  whim  of  its 
ruler.  It  judges,  as  the  world  in  general  judges,  by 
clothes  and  extei-nals:  a  trifling  condescension,  a  gra- 
cious bow,  a  smile  from  its  ruler,  suflice  for  it  to  break 
out  in  acclamations,  —  as  if  Nero  himself  never  smiled  I 
A  tyrannized  people,  living  in  the  dread  of  conditions 
worse  tlian  the  present,  learns  by  institu't  to  flatter,  and 
is  an  easy  i)rey  to  flattery.  After  many  deceptions,  it 
looks  forward  to  the  advent  of  the  present  tyrants  suc- 
cessor. Tlie  new  king  may  have  new  ideas;  tlie  change 
wari'ants  hope,  and  hope  utters  itself  in  rejoicings.  It 
ha])p<'ned  that  new  rulers  came  to  the  throni'  in  Naples, 
Rome,  and  Piedmont,  just  at  the  time  of  tlie  revolution  of 
18iU  ;  and  as  usual.  Liberals  and  Reactionists  s])eculatcd 
as  to  the  effect  these  unknown  <piantities  would  produce. 


406  THE    DAWN    or   ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

Of  the  three,  Ferdinand  II,  who  succeeded  to  the  crown 
of  Naples,  November  8,  1830,  excited  the  greatest  enthu- 
siasm. His  father,  Francis,  had  been  so  detestable 
that  every  one  was  glad  to  be  rid  of  him,  and  no  one  be- 
lieved that  his  infamous  traits  could  reappear  in  his  suc- 
cessor. But  Ferdinand  aroused  more  than  this  negative 
sentiment  in  his  subjects;  he  had  positive  traits  that  com- 
mended him  to  them  and  justified  their  joyful  expecta- 
tions. He  was  young  and  soldierly;  he  seemed  energetic 
and  good-natured,  and  he  was  not  charged  with  debauch- 
ery. He  cleansed  the  palace  of  the  vile  creatures  of  both 
sexes  who  had  pandered  to  his  father's  evil  desires;  he 
dismissed  Vaglica  and  the  chambermaid  De  Simone;  he 
swept  out  the  courtiers  and  the  pet  parrots ;  he  abolished 
the  spendthrift  hunting-establishment.  When  he  talked 
favorably  of  amnesty  for  political  offenders,  and  actually 
allowed  his  soldiers  to  wear  moustaches,  —  those  emblems 
of  Carbonarism,  — the  Liberals  grew  confident;  when  he 
cut  down  the  appropriations  for  the  civil  list,  and  did 
away  with  the  poll-tax,  eulogists  could  not  restrain  their 
odes  of  thanksgiving.  In  verse  and  prose  they  lauded 
"the  new  Titus,"  whom  heaven,  in  its  mercy,  had  vouch- 
safed to  them.i 

Ferdinand  propitiated  the  Sicilians  by  sending  his 
brother,  the  Covmt  of  Syracuse,  to  rule  over  them.  He 
seemed  determined  also  to  be  his  own  master  in  his  rela- 
tions abroad.  Louis  Philippe,  his  kinsman,  wrote  and 
counseled  him  to  conform  to  the  spirit  of  the  times,  by 
taking  the  July  monarchy,  on  whose  friendship  he  could 
rely,  as  a  model ;  the  Emperor  of  Austria  urged  him  to 
make  no  concessions,  but  to  imitate  his  father  and  grand- 
father in  following  Austria's  guidance.  To  Louis  Phi- 
lippe Ferdinand  replied  that  his  subjects  did  not  need 
much  scope  for  thought,  as  he  intended  to  tliink  for  them ; 
to  the  Emperor  he  expressed  gratitude  for  the  proffers 

1  Niseo:   FercUnando  II  (Naples,  1890),  5-11. 


A    DECADE   OF   CONTRADICTIONS.  407 

of  friendship,  but  declared  that  he  did  not  intend  to  be 
under  obligations  to  foreign  arms?  ^  These  various  acts 
and  promises  made  the  young  King  so  popular  during  the 
first  months  of  his  reign  that  even  the  conspirators  de- 
bated whether  they  could  not  persuade  him  to  become  the 
champion  of  the  Liberal  clause.  He  was  ambitious, 
therefore  let  him  join  them  and  win  the  crown  of  Italy  for 
himself.  But  Ferdinand  resisted  the  temptation,  saying 
that,  were  he  to  be  successful,  "he  shoidd  not  know  what 
to  do  with  the  Pope."^  The  older  and  warier  Liberals 
looked  on  skeptically  during  Ferdinand's  honeymoon  of 
popularity.  "A  Liberal  Bourbon  is  as  unthinkable  as  a 
stripeless  tiger:  let  us  wait,"  —  so  they  mused,  or  whis- 
pered to  each  other.  It  is  well  to  remember,  however, 
that  this  Ferdinand,  who  became  in  later  years  an  abomi- 
nation to  the  civilized  world,  was  hailed  at  the  outset  as  a 
patriotic,  justice-loving  prince. 

His  true  character  soon  began  to  reveal  itself.  He  was 
not  in  the  least  a  reformer;  he  cared  nothing  for  the 
welfare  of  his  people,  and  all  his  measures  were  aimed 
at  increasing  his  authority  irrespective  of  their  wishes. 
His  somewhat  haughty  attitude  towards  France  and  Aus- 
tria was  not  ins])ired  by  a  sense  of  dignity,  but  by  wilful- 
ness. He  was  bent  on  making  a  show  in  the  world.  So 
he  remodeled  his  army,  and,  when  not  too  lazy,  —  indo- 
lence being  one  of  his  ruling  traits,  —  he  conducted  the 
military  drills  with  a  mock-martial  strictness.  He  ap- 
j)()intc(l  six  lieutenant-generals,  thirty  brigadiers,  and 
fourteen  tield-inarslials,  whose  uniforms  doubtless  enliv- 
ened the  (Iress-i)ara(les.''  As  a  tribute  to  the  .Jesuits,  he 
created  tiie  iiicinon/  of  Ignatius  Loyola  a  field-marshal, 
and  paid  over  to  tiiem  the  salary  ai)))ertaining  to  that 
rank.*    The  parasit<'s  wlio  had  deliled  his  father's  admin- 

'  Sctt<>inl)riiii :    RicDninnzt   (XupK-s,  IS'.W)).  i.  4"_'. 
-  Nisco.  :!(>. 

*  Perrens  :   Deux  Ans  <h   U>  vulution  <n  Italit  (raiis,  K)7),  41'.». 


408  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

istration  he  replaced  by  others  scarcely  less  disgraceful. 
Delcarretto,  the  renegade  Carbonaro  who  had  destroyed 
the  town  of  Bosco  and  signalized  himself  by  similar  bar- 
barities in  1828,  was  appointed  Minister  of  Police,  a 
position  from  which  he  soon  rose  to  be  the  King's  chief 
adviser.  With  Monsignor  Code,  the  unscrupulous  royal 
confessor,  Delcarretto  competed  for  the  entire  mastery  of 
Ferdinand's  actions;  and  now  one,  now  the  other,  gained 
the  ascendant  by  flattery  or  craft.  Santangelo,  Minister 
of  the  Interior,  had  the  reputation  of  an  embezzler,  but 
the  King,  instead  of  investigating  the  charge,  laughed  at 
it.^  Coi-ruption  was  in  every  department.  Places  were 
bought  and  sold,  —  Delcarretto  nominated  his  ten-year- 
old  son  to  be  treasurer  of  the  bank  of  discount  with  a 
salary  of  six  thousand  ducats ;  ^  every  one,  from  the  min- 
isters down  to  the  turnkeys  in  the  prison,  took  bribes 
or  levied  blackmail.  The  financial  reforms  proved  illu- 
sory, —  as,  for  instance,  the  abolition  of  the  grist-tax,  for 
which  another  impost  was  substituted.  The  King's  econ- 
omy was  soon  seen  to  spring  from  avarice. 

In  his  private  life,  Ferdinand  had  only  one  virtue,  — 
he  was  not  profligate.  Illiterate,  he  had  a  certain  shallow 
wit  that  stood  him  in  the  stead  of  education.  At  times 
he  affected  great  solicitude  for  public  morals:  thus  he 
decreed  that  the  ballet-dancers  at  the  theatre  of  San 
Carlo  should  wear  green  tights,  on  the  ground  that  that 
color  would  least  excite  the  animal  passions  of  the  male 
spectators;  and  he  ordered  public  prostitutes  to  be  ex- 
pelled from  the  capital,  but  winked  when  they  bribed  the 
police  not  to  molest  them.^  In  temper  he  was  jovial  or 
surly ;  in  manners  a  boor.  He  used  to  amuse  himself  by 
caning  a  chaniberlain's  legs  and  seeing  him  hop  about  in 
agony ;  so  liis  royal  f atlier  had  had  the  pleasant  habit  of 
dropping  liot  wax  from  a  candle  on  the  nose  of  one  of  his 
courtiers,  and  laughing  at  the  blister  he  raised.      Once 

^  Settembrini,  i,  54-5.  ^  p^rreiis,  419.  ^  Ibid. 


A    DECADE   OF   CONTRADICTIONS.  409 

Ferdinand  pulled  the  music-stool  away  just  as  his  wife 
was  about  to  sit  down  at  the  piano,  and  as  she  sprawled 
on  the  floor,  he  roared.  "I  thought  I  had  married  the 
King  of  Naples  and  not  a  /a,^.^(^ro/ie,"  she  exclaimed  in- 
dignantly.^ That  word  describes  Ferdinand  best,  —  he 
was  by  instinct  a  lazzarone^  by  chance  a  king;  in  all 
things,  except  his  apparel,  akin  to  the  beggars  of  the 
Chiaja,  —  a  loafer,  a  banterer,  a  bully,  a  creature  swayed 
by  his  sensations,  deceitful,  obstinate  or  cringing,  quick 
to  fly  into  a  passion  or  to  turn  off  the  gravest  matter  with 
a  joke. 

As  soon  as  the  conspirators  understood  Ferdinand's 
real  nature,  they  leaped  from  their  momentary  quiescence 
into  redoubled  activity.  In  1831  a  tumult  broke  out  at 
Palermo ;  in  1832  a  burrow  of  plotters  was  unearthed  at 
Nola;  in  1833  a  cavalry  oflicer  named  Rossaroll  planned 
with  several  confederates  to  kill  the  King  at  a  military 
review,  and  that  same  year  there  was  frustrated  an  insur- 
re(!tion  in  which  it  was  said  sixty  thousand  conspirators 
would  take  part.'-^  Chance,  or  a  tell-tale  accomplice,  or 
the  vigilance  of  the  police,  caused  all  these  schemes  to 
fail,  but  they  so  alarmed  Ferdinand  that  he  ])rop()sed 
to  his  fellow-monarchs  to  form  a  league  for  extiri)ating 
political  incendiaries,  and  he  was  chagrined  when  tlicy 
declined  his  })roposition.''  And  now  the  ])risons  swarmed 
with  victims,  many  of  whom  liad  been  arrested  merely 
on  suspicion,  while  many  more  were  detained  one  ye;ir  or 
two  after  the  judges  had  dcclare«l  tlicm  iinioccnt.  What 
those  prisons  were,  with  their  filth,  their  crueltv,  their 
obscenity,  ecpialing  the  worst  that  has  ever  been  told  of 
Sibei-ia  or  tlie  (hmgeons  of  tlie  Inciuisition,  has  been  re- 
corded by  some  of  the  brave  men  who  suti'ered  in  them.' 
lint  when  have  arrests  and  persecutions  strangled  a  move- 
ment like  tliat  which  liad   l)een,  for  twenty  years,  agitat- 

'  S<"ttt'iiil)niii.  i.  ")!.  -  I'o.^'-i;!.  ii,   |:;i-S.  :'   Hiuiiclii.  iii.  •_'.".s. 

*  S('ttciiil)tiiii"s  liiiordanzi,  for  iiistaiu-c,  an;  vivid  and  truslvvortliy. 


410  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

iug  Italy  ?  The  conspirators  would  not  surrender ;  they 
had  not  yet  sufficient  harmony  and  moral  strength  to  con- 
quer. Even  those  ethical  precepts  of  Young  Italy  were 
lono-  in  taking  root  in  a  character  so  debased  as  was  that 
of  the  Neapolitans,  who  rebelled,  for  the  most  part,  for 
the  same  reason  that  the  trodden  worm  turns.  It  seemed 
probable  that  some  of  the  small  tumults  which  spurted 
up  periodically  were  carefully  prepared  by  the  King's 
ministers,  in  order  to  convince  him  that  they  were  indis- 
pensable to  his  safety.  Delcarretto  and  the  confessor 
Code  were  the  real  masters  of  the  kingdom,  although 
they  were  satisfied  to  have  their  policy  seem  to  be  shaped 
by  the  King. 

In  1835,  Asiatic  cholera,  which  had  been  steadily 
spreading  over  Europe  from  India  during  the  past  five 
years,  appeared  in  Northern  Italy.  The  following  sea- 
son it  swept  southward  through  the  Peninsula.  So  dev- 
astating an  epidemic  had  not  been  known  for  two  cen- 
turies. Fifty  thousand  victims  perished  in  Lombardy; 
five  thousand  four  hundred  in  Rome,  five  thousand  in 
Naples,  and  every  town  and  hamlet  had  its  heaps  of 
dead  and  its  crowds  of  panic-stricken  living.  Pestilence 
and  earthquake  are  the  two  great  calamities  which  make 
a  general  havoc  of  all  brave  and  unselfish  qualities; 
among  even  the  stanchest  races,  they  wrench  asunder  the 
ties  of  kin  and  friendship  and  common  humanity,  and 
substitute  a  pitiless,  demoniac  terror.  Upon  the  morale 
of  a  people  like  the  Neapolitans,  superstitious  and  excit- 
able, the  effect  of  such  an  epidemic  must  always  have 
been  destructive,  for  their  religion  itself  was  based  on 
terror;  l)ut  now  a  political  delusion  intensified  their 
frenzy.  It  was  whispered  that  the  pest  was  caused  by 
the  government,  which  poisoned  the  food  and  water  of 
the  people,  in  order  to  get  rid  of  the  surplus  population, 
as  well  as  to  punish  its  enemies  and  to  complete  the  sub- 
jection of  the  survivors.     This    suspicion  of  poison  has 


A   DECADE   OF    CONTRADICTIONS.  411 

added  horrors  to  many  plagues;  Thucydides  says  that 
the  Peloponnesians  were  supposed  to  have  poisoned  the 
Athenian  cisterns  in  the  plague  of  B.  c.  430 ;  ^  Manzoni 
describes  the  popular  fury  against  the  alleged  anointers 
at  Milan,  in  1630 ;  ^  at  Naples,  in  1836-7,  the  long  infamy 
of  the  Bourbon  rule  gave  plausibility  to  the  assertion 
that  the  King's  ministers  were  capable  even  of  this  crime. 
Ferdinand,  to  allay  the  excitement,  went  to  a  baker's 
shop  and  ate  bread,  but  the  suspicion  was  not  dissipated ; 
and  only  when  cold  weather  came  were  the  ravages  of  the 
disease  stayed. 

In  the  ensuing  spring,  1837,  the  epidemic  broke  out 
with  fiercer  violence.  Everything  helped  to  widen  its 
track.  The  minds  of  the  Neapolitans  were  already  terror- 
stricken  ;  their  bodies  were  ill-fed ;  they  were  housed  in 
squalor;  their  streets  were  filthy.  This  time,  13,800 
victims  died  in  Naples  alone  within  less  than  five  months. 
The  cholera  swept  on  through  the  Abruzzi  and  Calabria, 
and  passed  into  Sicily.  Whoever  could,  fled;  but  flight 
was  beyond  the  means  of  the  masses,  who  remained  to 
tremble  and  die.  Husbands,  mothers,  sons,  when  the 
disease  smote  one  of  their  number,  forgetting  their  duty, 
their  affection,  and  all  but  their  terror,  hid  themselves. 
Sometimes  all  the  members  of  a  household  were  stricken 
together,  and  died  with  none  to  tend  them,  until  the 
stench  from  their  corpses  warned  the  neiglibors  to  come 
and  bury  tliem.  (rreat  ditches  had  to  be  dug,  into  whicli 
the  tumbrils  dum])cd  their  load  of  bodies,  upon  which 
(piicklinu!  was  shoveled.  The  oi-dinary  course  of  l)usi- 
ness  was  interrupted  and  the  necessaries  of  life  l)eeunie 
scarce:  ])riests  no  h)nger  performed  tlie  last  offices  over 
the  dying  or  chanted  masses  for  tlie  dead.  Tlie  sih'nce 
was  at  times  liorrible,  but  more  hon-ible  were  the  shrieks 
of  the  ])estilenee-striekeii.  and  the  tlmd  of  some  coi'pse 
flung   from   an   upper    window    to   the   pavement    for   the 

'  Thucydidos,  ii,  48.  -   /  I'rumtssi  Sjiosi,  t-liaps   :!1,  .'!:.'. 


412  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

buriers  to  take  away ;  horrible,  too,  was  that  long-drawn 
rumble  of  the  carts,  and  the  shouts  and  unseemly  laugh- 
ter of  the  men  who  piled  them  high  with  the  naked  or 
half -clad  bodies  of  men,  women,  and  children.  And,  as 
always  happens  when  a  calamity  falls  upon  and  dehuman- 
izes a  people,  many  gave  themselves  up  to  desperate  or- 
gies, to  drunkenness  and  debauch,  while  waiting  for  the 
plague  to  attack  them.  Nevertheless,  some  there  were 
whose  noble  nature  conquered  fear  and  restrained  brutal 
instincts,  — some  monks  and  priests  and  physicians, 
who  would  not  desert  the  sick  until  their  own  turn  came 
to  succumb.  In  Palermo  the  cholera  raged  for  a  hun- 
dred days,  and  carried  off  upwards  of  forty  thousand 
souls ;  as  many  more  perished  in  other  parts  of  Sicily. 

To  their  delirium  was  added  the  horror  of  insurrection. 
The  cry  of  poison  was  revived,  and  any  unfortunate  crea- 
ture on  whom  suspicion  fell  was  ruthlessly  dispatched. 
An  old  man,  who  had  fled  from  Palermo  to  escape  cholera, 
was  seized  and  burnt  alive  with  his  son.  A  Frenchman, 
who  conducted  a  panorama  at  Syracuse,  was  torn  to 
pieces.  Woe  to  the  person  in  whose  house  a  suspicious 
vial  or  perfume  was  found !  Sentinels  guarded  the  wells 
and  public  fountains  day  and  night.  The  delusion,  like 
the  plague,  infected  all  classes.  Cardinal  Trigona  ex- 
claimed in  his  death-agony,  "There  is  no  remedy  for  this 
poison."  The  naturalist  Scina  died,  believing  that  he, 
too,  had  been  poisoned.  And  from  this  strange  credulity 
to  pass  to  the  belief  that  the  government  was  the  poisoner 
was  but  a  step.  What  part  the  sectaries  took  in  spread- 
ing this  insinuation,  we  cannot  say ;  but  undoubtedly  they 
incited  the  maddened  people  to  revolt.  At  Penne,  in 
Calabria,  there  was  an  outbreak,  temporarily  successful; 
then  the  government  sent  Colonel  Tanfani  to  wreak  ven- 
geance on  the  town.  At  Gaeta,  at  Cosenza,  and  at  other 
points  on  the  mainland  revolutionary  jets  were  quickly 
extinguished,  and  the  government  turned  the  tables  on 
the  conspirators  by  charging  them  with  the  poisoning. 


A    DECADE   OF    CONTRADICTIONS.  413 

But  in  Sicily,  where  the  hatred  of  the  Bourbons  and  the 
desire  for  Home  Rule  needed  at  any  time  only  a  spark  to 
flame  up  in  rebellion,  the  agitators  kindled  a  far  more 
dangerous  conflagration.  Syracuse  revolted,  and  declared 
its  independence ;  Catania  shouted  for  the  Constitution, 
and  then,  reaction  having  set  in,  the  Royalists  prevailed. 
Palermo  was  in  a  ferment ;  every  district  was  tossed  by 
fear  of  pestilence  and  the  alarms  of  civil  war;  but  the 
force  of  the  agitation  had  almost  spent  itself  when  Ferdi- 
nand, who  was  not  a  king  to  let  part  of  his  realm  slip 
from  him  without  his  striving  to  retain  it,  gave  full  pow- 
ers to  Delcarretto  to  reduce  the  island  to  submission. 
Delcarretto's  strength  lay  in  punishing.  To  do  justice, 
to  conciliate,  to  make  allowance  for  excesses  committed 
under  the  frenzy  caused  by  the  pest,  —  such  considera- 
tions as  these  moved  him  not.  Within  a  month  he  had 
terrified  the  islanders  into  docility.  Hundreds  of  victims 
were  condemned  to  the  galleys  and  prisons,  some,  no 
doubt,  deservedly,  but  as  there  was  no  fair  trial,  there 
could  be  only  guesswork  in  assigning  the  penalty ;  many 
scores  were  executed ;  and  a  price  was  set  on  the  heads 
of  those  who  had  escaped.  Delcarretto  employed  tortures 
that  would  have  disgraced  a  Tartar  khan :  such  as  lianjr- 
ing  men  up  b)^  the  wrists  to  the  branches  of  trees,  flogging 
them  till  blood  flowed,  depriving  tliein  of  food  and  sleep, 
tearinj;  out  their  liair  in  Iraudfuls,  bindinir  them  in  most 
painful  and  obscene  fasliion:  "in  short,"' says  tlie  liisto- 
rian  who  relates  thes(^  atrocities,  "the  cannibals  of  the 
government  wislied  to  show  that  they  were  more  fero- 
cious tliun  the  cannibals  of  the  populace.''^  An<l  as  evi- 
dence of  his  insensil)ility,  Delcarretto,  wliilst  these  out- 
rages were  in  ])rogress,  gave  b:ui([uets  and  balls  at  the 
communal  palax-e  in  Catania,  and  re([uii'iMl  the  mothers 
and   daugliters   of   liis    victims   to  attend   them.-     When 

^  Nisco,  ")(]. 

-  Po^-g-i.  ii,   lUn  ;   consult    ,ilso  Niscii.  'riiidtti  (ii.   IM^i-S),  (Jiuilterio  (cliap. 
04),  and  (}al(li  (Firdinaiulu  II).  fur  i'lutliir  iletails. 


414  THE   DAWN    OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

order  had  been  restored,  the  King  set  about  wiping  out 
all  trace  of  Sicilian  autonomy,  by  reorganizing  the  ad- 
ministration of  the  island.  But  he  could  not  blot  the 
recollection  of  the  horrors  of  the  year  1837  from  the 
minds  of  the  Sicilians,  nor  could  he,  despite  all  his  com- 
l^ulsion,  wrench  from  them  their  desire  of  Home  Rule. 

From  these  facts  we  get  sufficient  insight  into  the  na- 
ture of  Ferdinand  and  his  government,  and  as  our  pres- 
ent purpose  is  to  estimate  the  forces  which  worked  for 
and  against  the  Liberal  cause  at  this  period,  we  need  not 
describe  minutely  events  which,  Time  has  proved,  had 
only  a  secondary  and  transient  importance.  Such,  for 
instance,  was  Ferdinand's  quarrel  with  England  over  the 
Sicilian  sulphur  mines,  —  a  quarrel  which  he  hastened  to 
patch  up,  when  a  squadron  of  British  men-of-war  came 
into  the  harbor  of  Naples  and  unmasked  their  guns ;  such, 
also,  were  his  casual  bickerings  with  Austria  or  with  the 
Pope.  The  great  fact  is  that  Ferdinand,  by  the  year 
1840,  stood  before  the  civilized  world  as  a  ruler  not  less 
odious  than  his  father  and  grandfather  had  been;  more 
vigorous  than  they,  his  tyranny  was  therefore  more  swift 
and  skilfvd  in  persecuting;  but  his  power,  like  theirs,  was 
based  on  espionage  and  cruelty,  and  he  maintained  his 
hold,  not  because  he  was  really  strong,  but  because  his 
subjects  were  weak,  and  because  the  autocrats  of  Europe 
tacitly  supported  him.  The  corruption  of  his  officials, 
the  barbarity  of  his  judicial  and  penal  systems,  the.  dis- 
soluteness of  his  Court,  the  misery  of  the  populace  in  the 
cities  and  tlie  insolence  of  brigands  in  the  country,  made 
Naples  loathsome  among  nations,  and  gave  to  the  epithet 
Bourbon  that  evil  significance  which  will  clin"-  to  it  for- 
ever.  The  "new  Titus"  was  seen  to  be  a  new  Caligula, 
whose  aggravated  tyranny  encouraged  plotting.  The 
Kingdom  of  the  Two  Sicilies  continued  to  be  a  hotbed 
of  conspirators ;  but  though  they  were  eager  to  rebel,  the 
sects  still  lacked  integrity  and  union.     Young  Italy  itself 


A   DECADE   OF  CONTRADICTIONS.  415 

could  not  quickly  convert  such  material  into  a  fit  instru- 
ment for  its  i^atriotic  enterprise,  but  ran  the  risk  of  being 
itself  perverted. 

Of  Gregory  XVI,  the  new  sovereign  of  the  Papal 
States,  we  have  already  had  a  glimpse  during  the  revolu- 
tion which  troubled  the  beginning  of  his  reign.  Raised 
from  a  monk's  cloister  to  the  pontifical  throne,  he  dis- 
played in  all  his  civil  acts  the  incompetence  and  bigotry 
of  a  monk.  His  fair  promises  to  reform  his  government 
vanished  into  thin  air  as  soon  as  the  representatives  of 
the  Great  Powers  had  presented  their  Memorandum  and 
withdrawn.  In  the  tribunals,  in  the  departments  of  po- 
lice and  finance,  not  less  than  in  the  diplomatic  service 
and  even  in  local  administration,  ecclesiastics  had  con- 
trol. To  be  a  layman  meant  practically  to  be  cut  off 
from  all  privileges  and  sinecures  —  and  they  were  innu- 
merable —  and  from  all  hope  of  preferment.  Therefore  it 
was  that  any  man  who  had  ambition  or  cupidity  took  or- 
ders, that  he  might  qualify  himself  to  feed  at  the  papal 
trough;  and  many  a  vile  wretch,  who,  in  other  countries 
would  have  been  known  only  as  a  pot-house  politician  or 
as  the  corrupt  tool  of  lobbyists,  wore  the  livery  of  the 
Papacy,  and  used  his  holy  office  for  private  ends.  Greg- 
ory had  for  his  favorite  a  certain  Moroni,  formerly  his 
barber  and  now  his  major-domo,  — a  nimble  fellow,  who 
trafficked  in  offices  and  levied  bribes  on  petitioners,  and 
grew  rich.  If  (iregory  was  ignorant  of  this  scandal,  none 
of  his  subjects  were.  You  will  searcli  in  vain  through 
the  o})inions  of  those  contemporaries,  of  whatever  i)arty, 
who  were  competent  to  express  an  opinion,  for  any  com- 
mendation of  Gregory's  government.  "As  a  sovereign," 
said  Cardinal  liernetti,  tlie  Secretary  of  State,  "lu>  is 
worth  little,  or  pt^rhaps  notliing  at  nil."  ^  "If  you  wished 
to  please  the  Holy  Father,"  wrote;  the  Piedinontese  envoy 
at  Rome,  "you  would  have  to  make  a  present  to  Gaetano 

'    Uiaiichi,  Hi,  1")>^. 


416  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAM    INDEPENDENCE. 

Moroni,  a  valet  who  has  his  entire  confidence.  You 
might  give  him  a  ring  or  a  fine  piece  of  silver;  but  for 
that  you  would  need  to  find  him  some  pretext,  that  is, 
employ  him  in  some  matter,  and  then  make  him  the  pres- 
ent as  a  recompense."^  "Among  the  numerous  difficul- 
ties to  which  the  position  of  the  countries  under  Papal 
rule  daily  gives  rise,"  Metternich  wrote,  "there  is  no 
question  that  the  most  insuperable  of  all  is  connected 
with  the  fact  that  the  government  has  no  idea  how  to 
govern.    ^ 

Nevertheless  the  Austrian  chancellor  discountenanced 
reforms  in  the  Papal  States,  and  denied  that  the  Pope 
was  bound  to  listen  to  any  appeal  for  "progressive  ame- 
lioration." For  it  was  plainly  Austria's  interest  to  have 
at  Rome  a  tottering  and  despised  government,  which  fur- 
nished an  excuse  for  Austria's  surveillance  and  interfer- 
ence. The  danger  from  an  outbreak  of  Gregory's  sub- 
jects would  not  equal  the  danger  in  the  example  of  Papal 
States  well  governed  and  contented ;  insurrection  could  be 
put  down,  but  the  example  would  unsettle  Austria's  Lom- 
bard and  Venetian  vassals.  Utopians  were  already  talk- 
ing of  a  federation  of  the  Italian  States  under  the  headship 
of  the  Pope;  for  Metternich  to  encourage  the  Pope  in  a 
policy  which  made  him  detested  was  therefore  a  piece 
of  excellent  strategy,  by  which  Gregory  was  easily  caught. 
Pie  removed  Cardinal  Bernetti,  whom  Metternich  did  not 
like,  and  appointed  Cardinal  Lambruschini,  whom  Met- 
ternich approved,  as  secretary  of  state ;  for  the  same  rea- 
son he  reorganized  the  body  of  centurions.  He  was,  in 
a  word,  subservient  to  Austria  in  his  internal  adminis- 
tration. Lambruschini  was  an  implacable  reactionary. 
He  called  in  the  Inqiiisition  to  hel})  him  hunt  down  and 
punish  political  offenders;  he  dispensed  justice  according 
to  whim  or  prejudice;  he  repressed  every  murmur,  and 
stifled  every  Liberal  breath.     Yet  in  Rome  itself,  with  all 

^  Bianchi,  iii,  159.  ^  Metternich,  v,  %\Q>. 


A   DECADE   OF   CONTKADICTION8.  417 

its  host  of  police  and  spies  and  Swiss  mercenaries,  public 
safety  was  so  iiucared  for  that  bakers  had  to  be  guarded 
by  a  posse  of  gendarmes  when  they  delivered  their  bread 
every  morning. 

The  revolution  of  1831  had  established  as  a  fact,  — 
what  had  long  been  suspected,  —  that  the  l^apaey  could 
not  maintain  itself  without  foreign  support.  There  was 
never  a  day  after  1831  when  an  overwhelming  majority 
of  the  inhabitants  of  the  Papal  States,  had  they  been  left 
to  their  own  motion,  would  not  have  freed  themselves  from 
Gregory's  temporal  sovereignty.  What  more  damning 
condemnation  can  the  bitterest  enemies  of  the  Pa])al 
government  make  than  simply  to  state  this  fact?  The 
misrule  of  the  Vicar  of  Christ  was  so  iniquitous  that  his 
own  subjects  preferred  any  other  ratlier  than  that.  But 
Austria  and  France  were  pledged  to  prevent  the  Romans 
from  throwing  off  their  hateful  incubus;  and  Gregory 
had  to  rely  upon  them  and  his  Swiss  mercenaries,  many 
of  whom  were  Protestants,  to  keep  his  "dearly  beloved 
children  "  from  driving  him  out  of  Rome. 

In  matters  ecclesiastical,  Gregory's  pretensions  were  as 
extravagant  as  his  civil  power  was  weak.  He  adopted 
that  policy,  which  his  successors  have  pursued,  of  combat- 
ing the  growing  Liberalism  and  tolerance  which  charac- 
terize our  modern  age  by  promulgating  dogmas  yet 
more  intolerant  and  more  retrograde,  lie  would  liavo 
blotted  out  seven  centuries  of  progress,  and  thrust  Hurojx^ 
back  into  the  religious  and  social  condition  of  the  era  of 
the  third  Innocent.  Thus  in  human  institutions  as  in 
animal  organisms,  when  the  limit  of  growth  had  been 
reached,  there  is  a  reversion  to  lower  and  cruder  forms. 
Gregcn-y  asserted,  in  his  negotiations  with  Cath(jlie  Pow- 
ers, the  right  of  the  Cluircii  to  dictate  to  the  State, — a 
claim  which  has  always  been  invulnerable  from  the  Papal 
standpoint  aM<l  which  the  Holy  Alliance  could  not  eoii- 
sistentlv  dcMv:   for  had  it  not  made  the  restoration  of  tln^ 


418  THE   DAWN   OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

feudal  Past  the  basis  of  European  order  since  1815? 
Metternich,  however,  was  never  a  slave  to  consistency, 
and  while  he  propped  up  Gregory  in  Rome,  and  urged 
him  to  deal  boldly  with  other  rulers,  he  gave  no  scope  to 
Papal  interference  in  the  Austrian  Empire. 

Thus  in  the  States  of  the  Church  as  in  the  Kingdom 
of  the  Two  Sicilies,  there  were  a  thousand  reasons  why 
subjects  should  conspire,  none  why  they  should  submit. 
But  in  view  of  the  holy  office  which  the  Roman  sovereign 
arrogated,  -^  in  view  of  his  being  the  recognized  repre- 
sentative of  Christ,  the  corruption,  the  injustice,  tlie 
cruelty,  the  deceitfulness  of  his  government  seemed  far 
more  shocking  than  similar  crimes  against  civilization 
committed  by  the  Bourbon  barbarians  at  Naples.  Greg- 
ory's reign  was  so  hated  that  all  parties,  except  the 
coterie  of  bigots  who  squatted  round  the  Papal  thi-one, 
felt  that  it  could  not  long  endure;  in  the  Legations,  a 
sect  called  the  "Ferdinandea  "  actually  plotted  in  behalf 
of  annexation  to  Austria. 

The  third  of  the  new  rulers  was  Charles  Albert.  For 
ten  years,  except  during  the  brief  Spanish  campaign,  he 
had  lived  in  retirement,  cursed  by  the  Liberals  as  a 
traitor,  and  distrusted  by  the  Reactionists  as  a  wovild-be 
Liberal,  because  of  his  ambiguous  course  in  the  revolu- 
tion of  1821.  His  accession  was  a  moment  of  suspense 
for  both  factions.  The  Liberals  hoped,  and  the  others 
feared,  that,  being  now  king  and  his  own  master,  he 
would  dare  to  retrieve  his  former  fault :  but  he  satisfied 
neither.  He  talked  of  reform,  but  he  kept  the  ministers 
of  Charles  Felix,  —  men  to  whom  cliange  meant  chaos. 
His  amnesty  extended  only  to  a  batch  of  common  crim- 
inals, —  no  political  prisoner  nor  exile  was  benefited  by 
it.  He  established  a  Council  which,  having  only  a  con- 
sultative power,  was  a  mere  echo  of  the  ministry.  And 
yet  the  Reactionists  were  constantly  afraid  that  he  would 
slip  away  from  them,  until  the  political  turmoil  of  1833 


A   DECADE   OB^   CONTRADICTIONS.  419 

gave  them  a  chance  to  implicate  him  in  the  bloody  work 
of  repression.  Then  they  thought  that  they  had  opened 
an  abyss  between  Charles  Albert  and  the  Liberals  which 
neither  would  try  to  bridge.  Erelong,  it  appeared,  how- 
ever, that  although  he  had  rigid  notions  of  kingship,  he 
took  no  ogreish  delight  in  blood.  He  was  stern,  but  not 
cruel. 

The  Italians,  in  and  out  of  Piedmont,  who  had  come  to 
believe  that  their  country's  liberation  might  be  achieved 
through  the  House  of  Savoy  were  most  incensed  by  Charles 
Albert's  apparent  surrender  to  Austrian  influence.  They 
knew  nothing  of  the  secret  pledge,  extorted  from  him  in 
1824,  that  he  would  not  change  the  fundamental  cliar- 
acter  of  the  government.  Ilis  first  object  was  to  be 
master  at  home,  and  as  his  conspiring  subjects  would 
have  thwarted  him  in  that,  he  naturally  leaned  upon 
Austria  as  the  Power  wliii'li  excelled  in  the  art  of  crush- 
ing conspiracies.  And  yet- those  who  were  deepest  in  his 
confidence  perceived  tliat  he  chafed  at  dependence,  and 
that  his  heart  was  tliorougldy  Italian.  He  devoted  him- 
self to  the  reorganization  of  the  Piedmontcse  army,  which 
had  been  neglecttnl  l)y  his  predecessor,  and  little  I*ied- 
mont  again  wore  the  aspect  of  a  militarj'  kingdom.  His 
court  was  stiff  and  formal;  all  ease  strangled  l)y  strict 
rules  of  eticpiette,  and  all  movements  governed  by  a  disci- 
pline as  mechaiiii'al  as  that  which  ])revaile(l  in  tlie  bar- 
racks and  on  the  parade-ground.  Soldiers  and  priests 
seemed  to  l)e  luimerically  in  the  majority,  as  tliey  were  in 
influence.  Charles  Albert  became  morbidly  religious, — 
he  abstained  from  all  l)ut  tlie  simplest  food,  he  wore  a 
hair-shirt,  he  kept  long  fasts,  he  spent  much  time  in  pious 
meditation, — -and  the  wily  minions  of  the  Church,  liy 
flattery  or  intimi(hiti(m,  ])laye(l  upon  tliis  morbid  ten- 
dency, .lesuits  contiollcd  ((hication  and  glided  into  every 
walk  of  life.  Monasteiies  were  crowded  with  la/y  monks; 
convents    swaiined     with     nuns.      The    black    frock    and 


420  THE   DAWN   OF   ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

shovel-hat  of  the  priest,  the  brown  garb  of  the  friar,  the 
starched  hood  or  mourning  veil  of  the  sister,  were  met  at 
evei-y  turn.  To  show  his  devotion  to  Mother  Church, 
Charles  Albert  agreed  upon  a  concordat  with  the  Pope, 
and  requested  that  a  Papal  nuncio  should  reside  at  Turin ; 
and  the  Pope  encouraged  the  King  in  his  piety  by  canon- 
izing several  by -gone  members  of  the  House  of  Savoy. 

To  the  psychologist,  few  royal  characters  of  modern 
times  offer  so  many  interesting  perplexities  as  this  soldier- 
hermit  of  Piedmont.  Like  Hamlet,  he  continually  made 
resolves,  only  to  flinch  when  the  moment  came  to  execute 
them.  He  was  the  victim  of  after  -  thoughts  which 
checked  action;  and  his  monkish  asceticism  aggravated 
that  nervous-gastric  temperament  of  his  which  kept  his 
will  in  a  flutter  of  irresolution.  His  sudden  changes 
were  due  not,  as  his  enemies  charged,  to  insincerity,  but 
to  a  diseased  volition.  In  a  moment  of  high  spirits,  he 
excited  great  hopes,  which  he  assuredly  meant  to  fulfil; 
then  came  the  reaction,  the  chill,  when  the  thing  he  had 
promised  looked  black  and  impossible ;  and  he  remained 
inert.  Men  called  him  "King  Shilly-Shally,"  "King 
See-Saw,"  and  they  even  attributed  his  vacillation  to  wil- 
ful treachery ;  but  I  find  no  more  proof  that  he  ever  de- 
liberately played  false,  than  that  he  played  the  part  of 
waverer  for  seventeen  years  in  order  to  veil  his  patriotic 
desigfns  from  Austria.  He  himself  felt  the  burden  of  his 
contradictory  nature:  "Am  I  not  indeed  an  incomprehen- 
sible man?  "  he  said  to  one  whom  he  trusted.  This  sense 
of  mystery,  of  being  accompanied  and  opposed  by  a  spe- 
cial, inscrutable  Fate,  was  at  all  times  present  to  him, 
and  often  inspired  in  him  a  foreboding  of  failure.  And 
his  outward  conditions  corresponded  in  their  antagonism 
to  the  conflicts  in  his  soul.  "  I  live  between  the  dagger 
of  the  Carbonari  and  the  chocolate  of  the  Jesuits,"  —  in 
that  phrase  he  accurately  described  his  position.  But 
there  seems  reason  to  believe  that  when  the  Jesuits  dis- 


A    DECADE   OF   CONTRADICTIONS.  421 

covered  that  they  could  do  their  will  with  him  by  appeal- 
ing to  his  piety,  he  ran  no  further  risk  of  their  poison, 
although  it  has  been  hinted  that  at  their  instigation  his 
physicians  gave  him  drugs  to  keep  him  in  a  chronic  morbid 
state.  To  the  public,  he  seemed  a  man  of  great  reserve 
and  self-control :  he  was  very  tall,  and  dignified  almost  to 
haughtiness  in  his  carriage ;  his  countenance  was  serious, 
and  not  easily  roused  into  vivacity ;  but  despite  this  im- 
perturbability, there  was  a  certain  charm  in  his  manner 
that  left  an  impression  of  benevolence  and  candor  upon 
anyone  who  spoke  with  liim.^ 

In  contrast  with  this  king  who  "would  and  would  not," 
was  his  chief  minister,  Solaro  della  Margarita,  a  man 
more  Royalist  than  his  master.  Count  Solaro  had  no 
doubts  nor  hesitations ;  he  believed  in  the  divine  right  of 
monarchy,  and  his  endeavor  was  to  maintain  undipped 
the  prerogatives  of  the  Crown.  To  administer  strictly 
the  strict  paternal  government,  to  concede  nothing  to 
popular  demands,  to  have  it  understood  that  whatever 
reforms  were  granted  were  due  to  tlie  bounty  and  wisdom 
of  the  Sovereign  and  not  to  a  recognition  of  the  right  of 
his  subjects  to  ask  for  them,  —  these  wei-e  the  guiding 
principles  of  Count  Solaro's  life;  and  from  his  uncompro- 
mising, self-assured  nature,  Charles  Albert's  reign  got 
its  fixed  hue  and  its  uniformity.  Other  ministers  tliere 
were,  like  Villamarina,  who  favored  a  wider  liberty,  and 
occasionally  they  almost  i)ersuaded  the  King  to  their 
views;  but  wlien  he  talked  witli  liis  Foivign  Secretary, 
the  latter,  wlio  always  liad  tlie  last  word,  prevailed.  In 
many  respe(;ts  Piedmont  impi-oved  during  tliis  decade, 
in  spit(!  of  th(;  prohibition  of  political  discussion,  and  in 
sj)ite  of  the  ubicjuitous  and  domineering  eeelesiasties.  A 
uniform  Civil  Cod(!  was  promulgated;    in   Sardinia,   tlie 

'  For  Charles  Albert  see  I!eaiire^'',ir<l  <le  ("osta;  I'rolnijui'  il'ttn  luf/uf 
(Paris,  1.S.S1));  Cappelletii ;  C'lrlo  Albtrtu  (lioiiie,  ISitl)  ;  Broirerio,  Ci- 
brario,  etc. 


422  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

feudal  system  was  abolished ;  commerce  and  industry  re- 
vived; the  King  patronized  the  fine  arts,  and  wished  to 
make  Turin  a  centre  of  culture.  He  was  among  the  first 
Italian  princes  to  discern  the  importance  and  to  encourage 
the  construction  of  railways ;  he  likewise  favored  infant 
asylimis  and  other  charitable  institutions,  and  set  the 
fashion  in  humane  work.  But  since  he  could  overrule  the 
law  by  his  arbitrary  decree,  the  new  code  proved  less  ben- 
eficial than  it  shovdd  have  proved;  and  in  the  adminis- 
stration  of  justice,  where  political  offenders  were  involved, 
there  was  but  slight  regard  either  for  equity  or  for  law. 
Religious  intolerance  showed  itself  in  the  government's 
dealing  with  the  Waldenses,  who  were  forbidden  to  attend 
Protestant  colleges  or  even  to  remove  from  the  now  over- 
populated  valleys  which  had  been  for  centuries  the  scene 
of  their  persecution. 

In  his  foreign  relations  Charles  Albert  preserved 
friendliness  towards  Austria ;  not  because  he  was  unmind- 
ful of  the  hereditary  ambition  of  his  House,  —  an  ambi- 
tion which  Austria's  occupation  of  Northern  Italy  kept 
at  bay,  —  but  because  he  saw  no  present  chance  of  ex- 
pelling the  Austrians,  and  because  he  recognized  them  as 
the  conquerors  of  revolution.  Nevertheless,  on  one  occa- 
sion, at  least,  he  was  on  the  point  of  looking  westward  for 
an  ally.  In  1840  the  Oriental  Question  stirred  up  so 
much  di])lomatic  wrath  that  a  general  war  seemed  immi- 
nent. France,  isolated  through  the  blunders  of  her  Cab- 
inet, sought  a  league  with  Piedmont,  holding  out  tlie 
prospect  of  the  acquisition  of  Lombardy,  should  the 
Franco-Piedmontese  army  defeat  the  Austrians,  and  pre- 
dicting that  tlie  Italians  would  rise  in  mass  and  figlit  for 
their  independence  as  soon  as  the  first  Frencli  column 
appeared  on  jNIont  Cenis.  Austria,  on  the  other  hand, 
represented  to  Charles  Albert  the  danger  of  conniving 
with  the  revolutionary  elements  in  Italy,  and  the  improb- 
ability of  the  French  being  a  match  for  the  other  Powers. 


A   DECADE   OF   CONTRADICTIONS.  423 

Charles  Albert  would  have  escaped  from  the  dilemma  by 
remaining  neutral,  but  when  he  was  shown  by  both  sides 
that  his  neutrality  would  not  prevent  both  Austrians  and 
French  from  invading  his  kingdom,  in  order  to  come  to 
close  quarters,  he  weighed  the  chances,  decided  that  the 
odds  lay  with  Austria,  and  therefore  he  accepted  an 
alliance  with  her.  The  war  was  prevented  through  the 
exertions  of  the  same  diplomats  who  had  caused  the 
alarm,  and  so  Italians  were  spared  the  ignominy  of  seeing 
the  only  native  ruler  in  Italy  serve  as  an  ally  of  Italy's 
inveterate  oppressor.^ 

Of  the  three  rulers  whose  personality  and  administra- 
tion I  have  thus  sketched,  the  Italians  had  come  to 
regard  only  Charles  Albert  as  a  possible  instrument  in 
their  redemption.  From  the  Pope  and  the  King  of 
Naples  they  no  longer  expected  any  encouragement,  — 
nay,  they  looked  forward  to  the  removal  of  those  despots 
as  the  indis})ensable  condition  to  success ;  but  Charles  Al- 
bert, despite  his  rigid  paternalism,  des})ite  his  vacillation 
and  his  failures  to  fulfil  the  hope  centred  in  him,  was  still 
believed  by  many  to  be  available  as  a  cham))ion  of  the 
national  cause.  The  severity  of  his  persecution  of  Lib- 
erals and  liis  compactly  organized  system  of  rc]ircssion 
gave  conspirators  reason  enough  to  ])lot  against  him ;  and 
yet  the  idea  was  in  the  air  that  destiny  j)ointed  to  him 
as  the  likeliest  champion  of  Italy's  aspirations.  That 
strange  nature  of  his  made  him  still,  after  a  dozen  years 
of  reign,  an  enigma:  nevertheless,  from  little  hints 
dro])iH!d  from  tiuie  to  time,  the  enthusiastic  believed  that 
he  was  with  thein.  Men  remembered  sayings  of  his  that 
had  surely  a  jjatriotic  ring,  and  when  he  had  a  medal 
coined,  re]>resenting  a  Lion  erushing  an  Kagle,  with  the 
motto  '"''J'dttdiix  iiion  ifs/r<\"  "I  await  my  star," — - 
they  wliispered  that  the  Li«»n  stood  lor  Savoy  and  the 
Eagle  for  Austria,  and  that  the  niolto  was  prophetic  of  the 

'    ISiuiiohi.  iv,  chap.  '>. 


424  THE   DAWN   OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

King's  resolve.  Like  night-weary  watchers,  they  hailed 
the  first  dim  streak  as  a  promise  of  day. 

In  Lombardy  and  Venetia  the  conditions  of  the  natives 
remained  almost  unchanged,  although  at  the  death  of 
Emperor  Francis  (1835)  and  the  accession  of  Ferdinand 
they  indiUged  in  flowery  hopes,  which  the  Austrian  gov- 
ernment stimulated  by  festivities  and  pomp,  as  well  as  by 
releasing  some  of  the  Spielberg  prisoners,  who  were  for- 
bidden, however,  to  return  to  their  homes.  Metternich's 
policy  of  encouraging  the  nobles  and  rich  bourgeoisie  in 
a  life  of  dissipation  was  persevered  in,  and  caused  Ital- 
ians of  sterner  morals  to  deplore  the  consequent  sapping 
of  vigor  and  integrity.  Nevertheless,  Austria's  conduct 
towards  her  bondsmen,  in  all  except  political  matters, 
contrasted  favorably  with  that  of  every  other  Italian  ruler 
except  the  Grand  Duke  of  Tuscany,  and  thereby  deceived 
foreigners  who  traveled  through  Lombardy  and  Venetia 
into  supposing  that  it  was  just  and  salutary.  The  Duke 
of  Modena,  who  employed  Canosa  as  his  chief  agent, 
held  his  little  duchy  petrified ;  that,  at  least,  he  could  do, 
having  been  forced  to  abandon  his  dream  of  wider  tyr- 
anny. Modena  became  the  oracle  of  reaction,  and  Fran- 
cis, through  his  newspaper,  La  Voce  ddla  Verita,  was 
the  mouthpiece  of  the  oracle,  muttering  warnings  against 
Liberalism  and  suggesting  heroic  remedies  for  the  polit- 
ical disease  which  threatened  European  autocracy. ^  It 
was  his  doctrine  that,  in  a  well-regulated  government,  the 
hangman  should  be  the  prime  minister. 

For  the  Liberals,  Tuscany  alone  was  an  oasis  amid  the 
desert.  Leopold's  government  was  paternal,  but  mildly 
paternal,  according  to  the  standard  of  his  minister,  Fos- 
sombroni,  who  believed  that  subjects  can  best  be  diverted 
from  political  agitation  when  they  are  allowed  to  pursue 

^  He  proposed,  for  instance,  that  the  Czar  should  be  subsidized  to  con- 
fine in  Siberia  all  the  Italian  political  prisoners  and  suspects.  Bianchi, 
iv.  33. 


A    DECADE   OF   CONTRADICTIONS.  425 

their  own  course  in  social  and  commercial  affairs.  But 
though  there  was  no  real  libarty  in  Tuscany,  and  though 
Leopold  would  have  resisted  any  attempt  to  compel  him 
to  grant  a  Constitution,  his  actual  tolerance  drew  upon 
him  rebukes  and  intimidations  from  Austria  and  repri- 
mands from  the  Vatican.  In  1831  he  was  obliged  to  sup- 
press the  Antologia,  in  which  an  allusion  had  been  made 
to  the  barbarous  treatment  of  the  Kussian  prisoners  in 
Siberia;  but  he  bravely  refused  to  permit  the  Jesuits 
to  reestablish  themselves  in  his  domain,  and  he  would 
neither  surrender  his  autocracy  to  Austria,  nor  abolish 
the  Leopoldine  Code,  which  denied  to  the  Church  the 
right  to  interfere  in  the  concerns  of  the  State.  Equally 
obnoxious  in  the  eyes  of  his  neighbors  was  his  reform  in 
education.  He  broadened  the  curriculum  of  the  univer- 
sities at  Pisa  and  Siena,  and,  more  aggravating  still,  he 
called  to  the  professors'  chairs  scholars  of  conspicvious  abil- 
ity and  Liberal  tendencies;  so  that  the  students  imbibed 
patriotic  ideas  along  with  their  lectures  in  chemistry 
and  logic.  He  relaxed  the  not  over-stri(^t  censorship; 
he  patronized  charitable  organizations,  took  measures 
for  reclaiming  the  Maremme,  and  gave  refugees  an  asy- 
lum. Leo])old  illustrated,  in  short,  the  better  possibil- 
ities of  Absolute  monarchy,  when  the  monarch  is  not 
made  restless  liy  aml)ition,  nor  cruel  ])y  fear,  and  when 
his  subjects  are  content  to  receive  tlie  benefits  whicli  he 
gi'aciously  bestows,  instead  of  fighting  for  ideals  lie  will 
not  grant.  Leopold  wislied  to  l»e  h't  alone;  the  Tuscans 
were  thrifty  and  easy-going;  and  so  Tuscany,  in  contrast 
witli  the  rest  of  Italy,  seemed  l)lessed  with  ])ros})erity  and 
freedom. 

Such  were  the  salient  characteristics  of  the  decade 
under  review  as  they  a])peared  to  contcMiiporaries.  If  it 
were  necessary  to  make  a  more  minute  study,  we  shonltl 
undoubtedly  fin<l  reason  to  (pialify  and  al)ate  some  of  the 
o})inions   reported   concerning   the    men    and    motives    of 


426  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

that  period ;  but  it  is  our  object  to  know  what  the  Ital- 
ians regarded  as  intolerable  grievances,  for  those  griev- 
ances caused  the  struggle  for  independence,  and  they 
could  not  be  oifset  nor  soothed  by  measures  compatible 
with  autocratic  government.  An  historian  might  with 
truth  declare  that  the  American  Colonists  enjoyed  in 
1775  a  large  number  of  benefits  from  British  rule;  but 
he  would  not  accurately  portray  the  condition  of  the 
Colonists  unless  he  stated  that  all  those  benefits  could  not 
compensate  for  the  lack  of  repi-esentation.  Nothing  but 
that  would  satisfy  the  Americans,  and  it  was  idle  for 
Britain  to  expect  gratitude  from  them  for  favors  which 
they  spurned.  The  Italians,  likewise,  had  reached  a  point 
where  only  independence  could  appease  them;  and  this 
they  craved,  not  merely  as  the  realization  of  a  fair  dream, 
but  as  an  escape  from  the  torments  and  iniquities  they 
had  to  endure  from  their  worst  masters,  and  the  enervat- 
ing restrictions  from  their  best. 

Among;  the  significant  results  of  this  decade  of  diverse 
tendencies  were  the  formation  of  a  copyright  league  by 
all  the  Italian  States  except  Naples,  the  negotiation  of  a 
customs-union,  and  the  establishment,  at  the  suggestion 
of  Prince  Charles  Bonaparte,  of  an  Italian  Scientific 
Congress,  which  held  its  first  session  at  Pisa  in  1839. 
The  annual  gathering  of  several  hundred  Italian  men  of 
science  helped  to  quicken  the  national  feeling.  After 
Pisa,  Turin  was  chosen  as  the  meeting-place ;  then  Flor- 
ence, Padua,  Lucca,  and  Naples  in  turn.  The  Pope  alone 
refused  to  let  the  Congress  assemble  in  his  territory,  and 
forbade  any  of  his  subjects  to  attend  it  elsewhere.  His 
keen  nostrils  scented  Jacobinism  and  revolution;  his 
Papal  instinct  recoiled  from  those  devotees  of  Reason  and 
Knowledge  as  from  a  brood  of  scorpions. 

From  the  world  outside  Italy  received  no  material  en- 
couragement during  these  years.  Czar  Nicholas  was 
leagued  with  Austria ;  Prussia  still  took  instructions  from 


A    DECADE   OF    CONTK  A  DICTIONS.  427 

Vienna;  France  had  a  Constitution  with  which  Louis 
Philippe  phiyed  battledore  and  shuttlecock,  but  so  badly 
that  Euroj)e  laughed  and  his  subjects  hissed  at  him. 
Only  in  England  was  Liberalism  triumphant,  and  since 
1832,  when  the  English  envoy,  Seymour,  had  declined  to 
guarantee  the  temporal  sovereignty  of  the  Pope,  Eng- 
land's sympathy  was  in  the  main  on  the  side  of  the 
oi)pressed  Italians ;  but  symiiathy  unseconded  by  official 
support  brought  them  no  improvement.  The  exiles  plot- 
ted and  chafed.  Mazzini  from  London  discharged  Young 
Italy's  shafts.  The  revolutionary  committees  in  Paris 
deliberated;  refugees  perched  along  the  Swiss  frontiers 
and  were  ready  at  the  first  favorable  signal  to  swoop 
down  into  Lombardy.  It  would  be  superfluous  to  enu- 
merate the  abortive  plans  and  pricked  bubbles  of  insur- 
rection, or  to  mention  all  the  smaller  sects,  —  such  as 
the  Tyrannicides,  the  Demonolatri  or  Devil-worshipers, 
which  existed  or  were  alleged  to  exist ;  or  to  describe  the 
guerrilla  warfare  which  the  Sanfedists  and  other  parti- 
sans of  Absolutism  waged  against  them.  It  was  a  world 
in  transition,  —  a  time  of  cross-tides  and  contradictions. 
Despots  like  the  Pope  and  the  King  of  Naples  were  con- 
centrating, as  in  a  sac  of  venom,  all  that  made  the  Old 
Kegime  abliorred.  Despots  like  Charles  All)ert  and  tlie 
(irand  Duke  of  Tuscany,  under  the  influence  of  the  New 
Spirit,  were  unconsciously  veering  from  the  Past  and 
drifting  away  from  the  abyss.  Only  ^letternich  was  im- 
movable, deeming  himself  su])eri()r  to  wind  or  wave. 
You  know  his  policy  at  any  moment;  that  was  the  one 
fixtun^  amid  the  eddies  of  eliange.  Austria  must  ])re- 
(loniinate  in  Italy, — -that  was  his  ruling  idea.  Not  only 
did  he  keep  shi-ewd  diplomats  at  (>ac]i  of  the  little  Courts 
and  jHMision  a  horde  ot  spies,  l)ut  he  also  subsidized  some 
menilter  of  each  of  the  ca])inets,  —  Lascarena  at  Turin, 
the  Prince  of  ( 'assaiio  at  Naples,  — not  to  s])eak  of  thost' 
canlinals  who  were   his  sei-vants   in  the  Sacred  Collcire  at 


428  THE   DAWN   OF  ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

Rome.  When  an  emergency  arose,  he  employed  still 
baser  arts.  In  1836,  for  instance,  believing  that  his  in- 
formation from  Naples  was  incomplete,  he  dispatched  his 
agent  Smucker  thither,  and  Smucker  soon  became  the 
paramour  of  the  Queen  -  Dowager,  a  woman  of  loose 
morals,  and  learned  through  her  the  royal  secrets,  which 
he  duly  reported  to  the  Chancellor.^  Greedy  Austria's 
spoon  was  in  every  broth.  The  Grand  Duke  of  Tuscany 
had  no  heir,  and  he  was  informed  that  at  his  death  Aus- 
tria would  appropriate  Tuscany ;  fortunately  for  his  am- 
bition, however,  his  wife  died,  and  he  married  another, 
who  bore  him  a  son.^  Again,  when  it  was  rumored  that 
Charles  Louis  of  Lucca  had  turned  Protestant,  Metter- 
nich  proposed  to  disinherit  him  and  to  absorb  Lucca; 
but  Charles  Louis  gave  sufficient  proof  of  his  orthodoxy 
to  frustrate  this  scheme.^  In  spite  of  casual  opposition, 
Metternich  was  still  master  in  Italy,  and  he  deemed  him- 
self arbiter  of  Europe.  He  alone,  among  all  the  poli- 
ticians of  the  century,  could  have  said,  —  as  he  did  say 
to  the  Piedmontese  minister  in  1842,  —  "I  have  the  good 
fortune  to  foresee  everything,  to  foretell  everything,  to 
bring  a  sound  judgment  to  bear  upon  the  whole  future."^ 
Other  self-satisfied  professors  of  statecraft  may  have 
thought  this  about  themselves,  but  modesty  or  a  sense  of 
humor  kept  them  from  uttering  it. 

1  Bianchi,  iii,  280.  2  j^j^  [y^  7.10, 

3  Poggi,  ii,  219.  *  Bianchi,  iv,  99. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  POLITICAL  REFORMERS. 

Thrift  is  a  principle  rooted  in  the  heart  of  the  Uni- 
verse: in  human  affairs  we  see  its  working  in  those  reac- 
tions when  society  turns  back  to  glean  the  last  straws  of 
an  institution  which  has  already  had  its  harvest.  Pro- 
gress is  not  a  straight  line  joining  the  New  with  the  Old, 
but  a  diagonal,  the  resultant  of  the  effort  of  conservatives 
to  hold  society  back  and  of  radicals  to  drive  it  ahead. 
The  Present  zigzags  between  the  Past  and  the  Future. 
Thus  the  French  Kevolution  aspired,  as  we  have  so  often 
rei)eated,  to  break  wholly  from  the  Past,  and  to  begin  life 
with  a  new  heaven  above  and  a  new  earth  beneath;  as 
Noah,  when  the  Deluge  subsided,  looked  upon  a  world 
unprejudiced  by  any  yesterdays.  Feudalism,  Monarchy, 
orthodox  Religion,  —  these  were  declared  abolished  by 
the  dare-all  revolutionists.  But  soon  it  appeared  that  to 
blot  out  institutions  which  are  the  inveterate  habits  of 
society,  society  itself  must  be  blotted  out,  —  and  tliat  was 
a  task  too  vast  for  even  the  guillotine.  True  reform  was 
seen  to  be  transformation,  —  a  slow  process,  but  the  only 
sure  one,  by  which  the  hateful  institution  is  gradually 
sloughed  off",  and  a  better  grows  in  its  ])laco.  So  the 
mad  onset  of  the  revolution  was  followed  by  a  pause, 
wlien  the  inertia  of  the  Past  checked  advance,  and  then 
reaction  set  in.  Monarchy  and  feudal  survivals  again 
dominat<'d  Euro])e.  But  tlie  revolution,  thougli  cliccked, 
was  not  spent:  it  rallied  in  turn,  tliis  time  with  less  dash 
but  more  jiersistence,  and  gained  inch  by  inch  on  its  an- 
tagonist. The  rev(»lution  of  18l}0and  the  fluly  monarchy 
marked,  as  we  saw,  the  turn  of  the  political  tide. 


430  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

Mean-vvliile  a  similar  conflict  was  in  progress  between 
the  champions  and  opponents  of  religious  orthodoxy. 
Catholicism  and  Protestantism  were  alike  on  the  defen- 
sive ;  for  rationalists  had  everywhere  proclaimed  that  the 
old  creeds  based  on  snpernaturalism  had  served  their  pur- 
pose, had  ceased  to  be  spiritual,  and  must  forthwith  be 
abandoned  as  inadequate  to  the  soul's  true  needs.  Espe- 
cially did  they  assert  this  of  Catholicism,  whose  mediaeval 

ceremonies  and  dogmas  most  offended  an  age  which  de- 
ft o 

clared  liberty  of  conscience  to  be  every  man's  right,  and 
which  was  beginning  to  substitute  historical  comparison 
and  criticism  for  blind  faith  and  theological  command  in 
matters  relig^ious.  But  fruo-al  Providence  never  throws 
away  an  institution  which  has  not  exhausted  every  poten- 
tiality latent  within  it:  and  now  there  was  a  Catholic 
revival.  Sensitive  minds  looked  again  into  Catholicism, 
and  reported  what  they  saw.  Some  of  its  apologists,  like 
Chateaubriand  and  Lamartine,  were  sentimental,  and 
painted  with  poetic  fervor  the  sweet  and  admirable  qual- 
ities of  the  venerable  Church;  some,  like  De  Maistre, 
would  yield  nothing  to  her  assailants,  but  restated  boldly, 
in  language  that  the  time  could  understand,  the  prepos- 
terous dogmas  on  which  she  rested ;  some,  like  Lamennais 
and  Lacordaire,  assigning  second  rank  to  dogma,  magni- 
fied ethics,  and  showed  how  she  might  be  the  chief  up- 
lifter  of  conduct;  some,  like  DoUinger,  with  critical  knife 
cut  away  the  overgrowth  of  fungi  and  rank  vines  which 
choked  her,  and  revealed  the  original  Tree  of  Faith  in  its 
simplicity;  some,  like  Newman  and  his  disciples,  were 
drawn  to  her  because  they  craved  a  religious  authority 
upon  which  their  bewildered  souls  might  repose. 

This  revival,  to  which  liistorians  have  hitherto  given 
less  attention  than  its  interest  and  importance  as  a  gen- 
eral religious  movement  merits,  had  its  supporters  in 
Italy  also,  and  it  miglit  seem  strange  tliat  the  ablest  of 
them  were  unattached  to  the  hierarchv,  did  we  not  re- 


THE   POLITICAL    REFOKMEUS.  431 

member  that  for  a  long  time  past  no  vital  spiritual  word 
hatl  been  uttered  by  pope,  cardinal,  or  prelate.  It  was 
from  laymen,  and  from  Churchmen  whom  the  Inquisition 
suspected  of  heresy,  that  the  impulse  came  to  make  Ca- 
tholicism once  more  a  dominant  religious  force  among 
the  Italians.  liosmini  (1797-1855),  a  profound  thinker, 
erected  a  vast  philosophical  temple  in  which  to  celebrate 
the  marriage  of  Scholastic  Theology  and  Modern  Meta- 
physics,—  a  union  of  incompatibles  from  which  no  last- 
ing concord  could  be  predicted.  But  whatever  may  be 
the  ultimate  value  of  Kosmini's  philosophy,  he  persuaded 
some  of  the  elect  of  his  countrymen  of  its  truth,  and  he 
forged  for  them  weapons  by  which  they  could  repel  their 
own  doubts  concerning  the  incomprehensible  mysteries  of 
Catholicism.  Manzoni  was  his  lifelong  friend  if  not  his 
disciple,  and  Manzoni,  as  we  saw,  was  a  devout  Catholic, 
Silvio  Pellico,  released  from  the  Spielberg  in  1830,  had 
jmblished  his  book,  "My  Prisons,"  wliicli  first  apprised 
the  world  of  Austria's  savage  treatment  of  political  of- 
fenders, and  whicli  also  (Hs}»layed  Pellico's  broken  spirit 
nestling  in  pious  resignation  on  the  dogmas  of  the  Cluirch. 
Balbo,  Tommaseo,  and  many  others  tliere  were  wlio  be- 
lieved that  Italy's  regeneration  could  best  be  effected  by 
reviving  the  spiritiud  forces  at  the  heart  of  Catholicism. 
"On  the  ruins  of  sophistry,"  savs  Cantu,  "was  erected 
the  world  of  science  and  truth:  we  ceased  to  be  ashamed 
to  say  the  .\rri\nd  the  I)r  profundi. ■<,  and  not  only  women 
attended  mass;  a  generation  seemed  preparing  wiiich, 
respecting  'the  holy  obscurities  of  faith,  should  be  char- 
acterized by  her,  as  the  preceding  generation  by  incre- 
dulity.'"^ The  adovcates  of  these  views  came  to  be 
known  as  \eo-(iuelfs;  they  were,  to  (juote  ('autii  again, 
"religious  democrats,  not  eonspiratoi-s,  but  still  less  cour- 
tiers, for  whom  the  liberty  of  It  ily  was  a  moral  ([ues- 
tion.     'Do  you  complain  that  foreign  doniination  coniipts 

'    Criinistdriii .  ii.  ti<'i  t. 


432  THE   DAWN   OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

you?'  they  asked  of  their  countrymen.  'He  alone  be- 
comes corrupt  who  allows  himself  to  be  corrupted.'  "^ 

But  in  Italy  all  questions  were  drawn  into  the  orbit  of 
politics,  and  presently,  early  in  1843,  there  appeared  a 
book,  "On  the  Moral  and  Civil  Primacy  of  the  Italians," 
that  was  hailed  by  the  Neo-Guelfs  as  their  confession  of 
faith,  and  that  surpassed  in  immediate  influence  any  other 
political  work  ever  written  in  Italian.  Its  author  was 
Vincent  Gioberti,  who,  banished  from  Piedmont  in  1833, 
had  spent  his  exile  chiefly  at  Brussels,  earning  his  bread 
by  teaching  in  a  small  college,  and  devoting  his  leisure 
to  the  acquisition  of  multifarious  knowledge  and  to  the 
publication  at  rapid  intervals  of  thick  treatises  on  many 
subjects.  He  was  a  philosopher,  a  theologian,  a  social  re- 
former, and  above  all  a  patriot.  To  fuse  all  his  learning 
and  energy  into  a  work  which  should  benefit  his  country, 
—  that  was  his  highest  ideal,  his  constant  desire,  which 
he  realized  in  his  book,  "On  the  Primacy." 

Reading  that  work  now,  after  a  lapse  of  fifty  years, 
during  which  the  problems  it  discussed  have  been  solved, 
and  the  generation  it  addressed  has  passed  away,  it  re- 
quires an  effort  of  the  imagination  to  conjure  back  a 
frame  of  mind  similar  to  that  upon  which  Gioberti 's  pro- 
lix rhetoric  and  vague  suggestions  fell  with  the  majesty 
and  splendor  of  Eternal  Truth.  As  old  love-letters  read 
by  a  stranger  have  no  longer  the  glow,  the  enchantment, 
whereby  they  once  thrilled  one  heart,  so  there  are  epoch- 
making  books  from  which  a  nation  at  a  particular  crisis 
extracts  all  the  pith  and  juice,  —  say  rather  it  literally 
devours  them,  —  and  leaves  only  their  rind  for  posterity. 
To  this  class  Gioberti's  "Primacy"  belongs;  it  is  a  relic 
of  great  historic  interest,  but  unlike  Demosthenes 's 
"Orations,"  or  Pascal's  "Lettres  Provinciales, "  or 
Burke's  "Reflections,"  it  lacks  those  qualities  which 
insure  permanence  among  the  masterpieces    of  political 

1  Crimistoria.  ii,  (i57. 


THE   POLITICAL   REFORMERS.  433 

thought.  But  this  does  not  detract  from  its  importance 
as  a  symptom  and  landmark,  nor  make  it  any  less  truly 
one  of  the  most  opportune  books  ever  published. 

Even  in  choosing  a  title,  Gioberti  showed  his  daring. 
At  a  time  when  the  Italians  were  in  bondage  to  native  and 
foreign  tyrants,  when  they  had  not  for  centuries  enjoyed 
any  genuine  civic  life,  when  foreigners  believed  them  to 
be  debased  and  flaccid  beyond  hope  of  regeneration,  when 
their  own  moralists  reproached  and  strangers  taunted 
them,  when  to  recall  their  glorious  Past  was  to  accuse 
their  shamefid  Present,  Gioberti  boldly  announced  to 
them,  like  a  Hebrew  prophet  to  the  Jews  in  their  deca- 
dence, "Behold,  ye  are  the  chosen  people  I  "  He  scoured 
the  records  of  history,  science,  religion,  literature,  and 
art  for  facts  to  support  his  thesis,  and  when  these  failed, 
his  vivid  imagination  supplied  ready  assumptions.  Very 
plausil)ly  did  he  show  how  the  Pelasgians,  Etruscans, 
and  Komans,  and  all  the  earlier  races  in  Italy,  had  been 
agents  in  the  hands  of  Providence  to  prepare  for  the 
coming  of  the  modern  Italians,  —  the  consummate  product 
of  the  "Hindo-Germanic "  stock.  Twice  already  had 
this  chosen  people  held  the  primacy  of  the  world :  once 
politically,  when  the  Roman  Empire  was  supreme,  and 
once  religiously,  through  the  Catholic  Church  ;  and  it 
still  contained  all  the  elements  necessary  to  a  third  and 
greater  supremacy.  The  forces  were  latent,  not  dead ; 
the  ground  was  fallow,  and  needed  only  to  be  tilh'd  and 
planted.  For  Italy's  inlieritance  of  genius  could  not 
perish,  thougli  it  niiglit  lie  dormant,  for  more  than  one 
generation.  The  bt'd-rock  of  all  civilization  is  religion ; 
Italy  possessed  the  Catholic  religion,  the  only  true  one, 
and  she  had,  therefore,  tht;  indispensable  corner-stone  of 
civilization.  In  the  j)ast,  her  greatness  had  coincided 
with  tluMinion  of  Church  and  State;  she  began  to  decline 
when  the  (Jhil>ellines  in  politics  and  the  Xoniinalists  in 
philoso])hy  sowed    their    errors    among  the   Guelfs,   who 


434  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

were  Realists.  To  restore  the  Papacy  to  its  former 
eminence  was,  therefore,  the  sure  and  simplest  way  of 
lifting  the  Italians  to  their  commanding  place  among  the 
nations. 

But  how  was  this  to  be  done,  in  view  of  the  actual 
feebleness  of  the  Papal  government,  and  of  the  division 
of  the  Peninsula  among  half-a-dozen  petty  sovereigns? 
Let  the  princes  form  a  federation  with  the  Pope  as  its 
president;  then  all  might  live  peacefully  together,  like 
brothers  under  the  care  of  an  all-wise  and  a  benign 
father.  The  absolute  authority  by  which  those  princes 
ruled  was  in  itself  advantageous  to  the  scheme;  for 
surely,  five  or  six  individuals  could  be  brought  more 
easily  to  consent  to  what  their  duty  and  interest  advised, 
than  could  a  majority  of  their  subjects,  if  they  were 
allowed  to  choose.  The  unification  of  Italy  might  indeed 
be  a  delightful  ideal,  but  it  was  an  abstraction,  whereas 
the  i^lan  of  federation  was  concrete,  real,  and  above  all 
feasible. 

This  is  the  germ  of  Gioberti's  "Primacy,"  its  one 
definite  and  positive  suggestion,  wrapped  about  with  dis- 
quisitions upon  theology,  history,  and  politics,  from  each 
of  which  he  drew  illustrations  to  confirm  his  position. 
Perhaps  no  other  revolutionary  treatise  has  so  unrevolu- 
tionary,  so  meek  and  conciliatory  an  appearance  as  this. 
You  might  read  it  and  never  suspect  that  it  was  more 
than  an  extravagant  eulogy  on  the  very  system  and  men 
that  had  degraded  Italy,  and  kept  her  degraded.  For 
the  ingenious  Gioberti  takes  care  always  to  praise  in 
particulars  and  to  condemn  in  generals.  If,  for  instance, 
he  speaks  of  the  Jesuits,  it  is  to  commend  their  vigor 
and  devotion, — in  Paraguay;  he  does  not  attack  the 
Jesuits  by  name  for  the  evils  they  cause  in  Italy;  he 
merely  deplores  in  general  terms  the  pernicious  effects 
that  spring  from  clerical  intrigues  and  unserupulousness. 
Again,  he  extols  the  ideal  monasticism  as  dreamed  by 


THE   POLITICAL   REFORMERS.  435 

St.  Benedict  and  St.  Francis,  only  allowing  himself  to 
remark  that  should  monks  ever  be  lazy,  ignorant,  and 
dissolute,  they  ought  to  be  severely  corrected.  And, 
since  absolute  wickedness  is  as  rare  as  perfection,  Gio- 
berti  finds  traits  in  the  nobility,  the  priesthood,  the  peo- 
ple, and  the  princes  that  he  can  honestly  approve.  He 
rarely  hazards  concrete  advice :  rulers  ought  to  love  their 
subjects,  and  subjects  their  rulers;  freedom  of  speech  is 
wholesome,  but  a  liberal  censorship  is  also  wholesome,  — 
these  are  specimens  of  his  non-committal  method.  Only 
against  violent  revolution  and  the  fretfulness  of  exiles 
does  he  speak  in  censure ;  3-et  he  has  kind  words  for  their 
intentions.  In  short,  the  "Primacy  "  is  a  work  so  subtle  ^ 
that  the  ablest  casuist  in  the  Company  of  Jesus  might  be 
proud  to  say  he  wrote  it ;  it  was  certainly  not  by  accident 
that  the  Jesuits  immediately  detected  its  hidden  purpose 
and  proceeded  to  assail  (iioberti  at  a  time  when  other 
orthodox  Catholics  were  rejoicing  that  they  had  won  over 
so  valiant  a  chami)i()n. 

A  significant  parallel  might  be  drawn  between  Gio- 
berti's  "Primacy"  and  Dante's  treatise  "On  Monarchy." 
Gioberti's  book  proved  to  be  a  funeral  oration  on  the 
temporal  Papacy,  and,  as  is  proper  in  such  effusions,  it 
abounded  in  praises  of  the  dead ;  Dante,  on  the  other 
hand,  eidogized  the  Holy  Roman  Em])iro,  and  declared 
that  through  it  alone  could  ])e;u'e  and  liarmony  he  re- 
stored to  Italy;  and  even  as  lie  wrote  the  ])ower  of  the 
Cierman  emperor  ceased  in  Italy.  Yet  both  Dante  and 
(rioberti  demonstrated  by  history  and  religion:  the  one 
that  the  Km])eror,  the  otiier  tliat  the  Pojic,  had  been  pre- 
destined by  God  to  bring  redemption  to  Italy. 

(iiohcrtis  book,  ])ublishe(l  at  Brussels  in  June,  1843, 
soon  made  its  way  into  Italy;  for  wliat  ruler  would  be  so 

'  Tho  Hulitlcty  w;us  iiitt'iitiimal  ;  sco.  for  instaticf.  rMi>l)crti"s  letter  to 
Maniiani  ijiuitt-d  in  V.  (i.'s  sketcli  of  (Jioberti,  No.  47  of  the  series,  /  Con- 
temiwrami  lUtlUmi  (Turin,  lS<Jl.'),  ">tW-7. 


436  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

harsh  as  to  forbid  his  subjects  to  read  what  was  clearly  a 
panegyric  on  himself?  Would  the  Pope,  whose  temporal 
sovereignty  was  so  eloquently  defended?  Would  Charles 
Albert,  who  was  hailed  as  the  right  arm  of  the  patriotic 
cause?  Would  Leopold,  of  whose  mild  paternal  gov- 
ernment the  "Primacy"  might  be  considered  a  evdogy? 
W^ould  Ferdinand  of  Naples,  who  was  placated  by  Gio- 
berti's  rebuke  to  conspirators?  Even  the  Austrian  fron- 
tiersmen let  the  book  pass  into  Lombardy  and  Venice, 
until  officials  with  keener  scent  perceived  that,  like  a  rose 
sprinkled  with  poison,  that  fair-seeming  volume  concealed 
revolution  among  its  leaves.  But  even  where  it  was  pro- 
hibited, the  "Primacy"'  was  surreptitiously  circulated; 
all  educated  Italians  read  it,  discussed  it,  were  thrilled 
by  it,  —  the  clerical  class  most  of  all.  To  have  their 
manifest  destiny  pointed  out  in  language  so  rich  and  so 
persuasive,  to  have  obstacles  so  deftly  smoothed  away  and 
the  achievement  of  their  desires  described  as  so  easy,  to 
have  their  noble  qualities  trumpeted,  and  their  defects 
hushed,  made  the  book  irresistible.  Criticism  might  pick 
many  flaws  in  the  ai'guments  and  cite  many  misstatements 
of  facts ;  but  Gioberti  addressed  the  emotions  and  not  the 
reason ;  he  was  a  special  pleader,  skilled  in  every  art  by 
which  a  jury  can  be  captivated.  The  very  vagueness  with 
which  he  suggested  the  means,  the  very  clearness  with 
which  he  affirmed  tliat  the  end  was  attainable,  disarmed 
opposition.  Each  reader,  applying  tlie  eulogistic  passages 
to  himself  and  the  general  censures  to  his  neighbor,  ex- 
claimed, "How  wise  and  virtuous  this  Gioberti  is!  He 
agrees  with  me  at  almost  every  point!  " 

The  Neo-(nielfs,  who  had  begun  to  turn  their  eyes 
towards  the  Papacy  as  the  one  power  that  might  guide 
Italy  to  independence,  quickly  adopted  Gioberti's  "Pri- 
macy "  as  their  gospel.  The  Piedmontese,  believing  in 
the  liigh  mission  of  their  dynasty,  likewise  cherished  it 
because  it  justified  their  secret  hopes.      More  than  this, 


THE   POLITICAL    REFORMERS.  437 

there  was  forming  in  every  part  of  Italy  a  body  of  Lib- 
erals, determined  but  reasonable,  who  insisted  that  it  was 
time  to  have  done  with  the  conspiracies  and  violence, 
which,  as  the  experience  of  nearly  thirty  years  had  shown, 
only  exasperated  the  princes,  sacrificed  many  lives,  caused 
patriotic  motives  to  be  confounded  with  criminal  or 
selfish  ambitions,  and  perpetuated  local  and  factional 
discords.  Thus  the  Moderate  Party,  representing  the 
common-sense  and  sober  second  thought  of  Italy,  was  also 
attracted  by  Gioberti's  glowing  yet  temperate  words, 
which  prophesied  the  new  era  of  unity,  liberty,  and  inde- 
pendence, —  blessings  which,  as  he  had  artfully  demon- 
strated, could  be  had,  "  without  wars,  without  revolutions, 
without  offending  any  public  or  private  right;  that  is, 
the  first  two  by  means  of  a  confederation  of  the  various 
States  under  the  Presidency  of  the  Pope,  and  the  last  by 
means  of  the  internal  reforms  of  each  province,  feasible 
by  their  respective  princes,  without  imperiling  or  dimin- 
ishing their  own  power."  ^ 

Gioberti's  scheme,  therefore,  being  the  first  in  the  field, 
was  hailed  on  man}'  sides  with  applaxxse,  although  no  one 
deemed  Gregory  XVI  the  pope  to  seize  the  glorious 
opportunity  for  making  himself  immortal  and  his  country- 
men hapjn* ;  ^  but  fortunately  he  was  now  old,  and  his 
successor  miglit  soon  have  the  chance  which  he  neglected. 
Meanwhile,  "Confederation  "  and  "Tlu;  Pontiff  for  Presi- 
dent "  were  the  mottoes  of  tlie  Neo-Ciuelfs  and  of  a  major- 
ity of  the  Moderates. 

But  books  beget  books,  and  within  less  than  a  year 
after  the  publication  of  tlie  "'Piiinacv,'"  Count  Ca'sar 
Balbo,  a  Piedmontese  noble  of  umisual  scholarly  attain- 
ments, brought  out  a  treatise  (m  "The  Hopes  of  Italy." 

1  Giobcrti  :    I'riniiito  (Vcnic...  IS;}S).  i.  •_'(;_'. 

■  ''  I  would  siil).soril)f  fiitiri'ly  to  your  I'riinarii."  wroto  Borsicri  tn  fiio- 
btTti,  "  if  it  were  pi)s.sil)lc  for  once  for  yoii  to  hccoiiie  pope,  anil  for  me  to 
be,  unworthily,  your  secretary  of  state."    V.  G.  58. 


438  THE   DAWN   OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

Balbo  was  Gioberti's  counterpart;  he  addressed  the  judg- 
ment rather  than  the  emotions.  "This  is  eloquent,"  you 
exclaim,  at  the  best  of  Gioberti's  outbursts;  "This  is 
sensible,"  you  can  say  of  Balbo 's  work  throughout. 
Gioberti  had  prudently  refrained  from  taking  up  the 
question  of  Austria's  domination  in  Italy;  only,  by  his 
very  silence  and  by  his  dedication  of  the  "Primacy"  to 
Pellico  he  gave  a  clue  to  inference.  Balbo,  on  the  other 
hand,  boldly  announced  that  Italy's  most  pressing  need 
was  independence,  and  he  proceeded  to  discuss  the  possi- 
ble means  by  which  she  might  free  herself  from  Austria. 
No  confederation,  he  said,  could  be  effectual,  so  long  as 
each  of  its  princely  members  were  the  tool  of  Austria. 
Why  talk  of  Papal  primacy,  he  asked,  when  the  Pope 
himself  is  hampered  and  directed  by  Metternich?  He 
dismissed  as  abhorrent  the  suggestion  that  the  entire 
Peninsula  might  be  united  into  one  Austrian  kingdom ; 
he  dismissed  also  the  proposition  that  a  group  of  little 
republics,  or  that  one  large  republic, — the  Mazziiiian 
scheme,  —  might  be  established ;  he  admitted  that  a  con- 
federation was,  at  the  moment,  the  most  rational  plan, 
bvxt  since  this  could  be  achieved  only  through  indepen- 
dence, he  urged  that  Italians  ought  to  devote  all  their 
energy  to  solving  that  problem.  He  offered  four  possible 
solutions :  —  first,  the  Italian  princes  might  unite  and 
repel  the  Austrians,  —  but  this  would  be  more  improbable 
than  that  they  should  form  a  federation;  second,  there 
might  be  a  national  uprising,  —  but  could  twenty -three 
millions  of  people  be  brought  more  easily  than  six  princes 
into  concord?  Third,  a  foreign  Power  might  be  induced 
to  espouse  the  Italian  cause,  — but  the  only  Power  likely 
to  be  so  induced  was  France,  and  what  would  be  the  gain 
of  exchanging  Austrian  for  French  despotism?  Finally, 
international  complications  might  arise,  during  which 
Italians  might  seize  a  favorable  moment  for  winning  their 
independence.     Of  such  complications,  three  were  previsi- 


THE    POLITICAL    UEFORMEK8.  439 

l)le,  —  a  general  democratic  conflagration  and  an  attempt 
at  universal  monarchy,  both  of  which  Balbo  declared  to 
be  equally  improbable,  or  a  partition  of  States,  which, 
he  thought,  was  both  possible  and  imminent.  For  the 
Ottoman  Empire  was  fast  falling  asunder,  and  before 
long  Europe  would  step  in  to  divide  the  property  of  the 
Sick  Man  at  Constantinople;  in  this  division,  it  would 
plainly  be  for  Austria's  interest  to  strengthen  her  posi- 
tion on  the  Danube  and  to  extend  her  dominion  over  the 
Balkan  provinces,  —  acquisitions  which  would  more  than 
compensate  her  for  voluntarily  giving  up  Lombardy  and 
Venetia,  and  withdrawing  her  influence  from  the  rest  of 
the  Italian  Peninsula. 

Balbo,  we  see,  had  something  more  definite  and  more 
practical  than  Gioberti's  iridescent  scheme.  He  did  not 
deceive  himself  into  supposing  that  it  was  sufficient  to 
describe  to  Pope,  Princes,  and  People  the  millennium  they 
might  bring  to  pass  by  merely  agreeing  to  love  each  other. 
Gioberti's  message,  reduced  to  lowest  terms,  was,  "Be 
virtuous  and  you  will  be  happy;"  but  this  maxim,  like 
many  another  equally  true,  was  too  vague,  and  suscepti- 
ble of  too  many  interpretations,  to  be  generally  servicea- 
ble. Balbo  took  human  nature  and  the  European  political 
condition  into  account;  he  deemed  it  more  imjiortant  to 
try  to  see  things  as  they  were  rather  than  to  glorify  the 
past  or  to  predict  ])rimacy  for  the  Italians  in  the  future. 
And  so  his  l)ook,  also,  had  a  deej)  effect  on  his  country- 
men, and  acted  as  a  corrective  and  clieck  to  the  too  ex- 
travagant ex])ectations  kindled  by  Ciiobcrti's  entlmsi- 
iXMU.  "The  IIo])es  of  Italy,"  although  denied  a  license  in 
Piedmont,  issued  from  a  foreign  jiress,  and  was  sold  with 
the  tacit  knowledge  of  the  govcrniucnt  in  most  parts  of 
the  Peninsula;  Gharlcs  Albert,  while  officially  ])r()liil)it- 
injT  the  book,  allowed  its  author  to  live  unmolested  at 
Turin.  Such  tolerance  had  been  unknown  for  thirty 
years. 


440  THE   DAWN    OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

These  two  books  had  in  some  measure  to  serve  the 
purpose  which,  in  free  countries,  is  served  by  the  press, 
public  discussion,  and  representative  legislatures.  They 
seemed,  indeed,  but  slim  wedges  to  drive  into  that  huge 
trunk  of  injustice  and  corruption  whose  branches,  like  the 
fabled  upas-tree,  shed  a  black  shadow  of  ignorance  and 
a  pestilence  over  Italy.  But  the  first  wedge  is  the  most 
important,  and  a  book  is  a  seed  from  which  a  revolution 
or  a  new  religion  may  grow.  The  soil  on  which  Gioberti 
and  Balbo  sowed  was  quick ;  they  had  not  long  to  wait, 
therefore,  to  see  their  ideas  take  root. 

Meanwhile,  the  party  of  action  was  not  idle,  Mazzini, 
also,  had  been  flinging  his  doctrines  broadcast,  and  was 
preparing  to  garner  his  crops.  We  saw  how  his  influence 
stirred  the  Sicilian  revolters  during  the  terrible  cholera 
year.  Thereafter  his  emissaries  made  the  Kingdom  of  the 
Two  Sicilies  the  special  field  of  their  intrigues.  No  sea- 
son passed  without  some  abortive  uprising.  At  Aquila, 
in  1841,  the  conspirators  were  accused  of  assassinating 
Colonel  Tanfano ;  a  hundred  and  fifty  of  them  were  ar- 
rested, many  of  whom  were  condemned  to  the  scaffold  or 
the  galleys.  The  next  year,  all  was  ready  for  a  simulta- 
neous revolt  in  Naples  and  the  Papal  States.  Mazzini's 
agitators  swooped  from  their  eyrie  at  Malta,  to  alight 
among  the  malecontents  in  the  Abruzzi  and  Romagna; 
exiles  who  had  fought  in  the  Carlist  campaign,  in  Spain, 
were  eager  to  return  to  their  native  land,  and  to  teach 
their  countrymen  how  to  manage  a  guerrilla  warfare ;  the 
Central  Committee  at  Paris  levied  assessments  on  its 
members  to  eqiiip  the  fighters ;  and  all  the  while  Mazzini 
from  London  showered  exhortations,  warnings,  and  com- 
mands. An  "Italian  Legion,"  whose  purpose  was  sim- 
ilar to  that  of  Young  Italy,  —  if  indeed  it  was  not  an 
offshoot  of  that  sect,  —  was  organized,  and  its  leaders, 
Ribotti  and  Fabrizi,  glided  up  and  down  the  Peninsula 
to  beat  up  recruits.     But,  despite  these  formidable  prepa- 


THE   POLITICAL   KEFORMERS.  441 

rations,  the  year  1842  passed  inactive,  and  1843  was 
more  than  half  spent  when  the  police  took  the  precau- 
tion, July  31,  of  arresting  above  a  hundred  suspects  in 
the  province  of  Salerno.  A  week  or  two  later,  alarm- 
ing symptoms  broke  out  in  the  Legations.  At  Ravenna, 
Cardinal  iVmat,  a  mild  and  comparatively  just  man, 
allayed  the  excitement  by  giving  passports  to  a  few  of 
the  alleged  leaders;  but  at  Bologna,  where  Cardinal  Spi- 
nola,  a  legate  of  the  retrograde  brood,  governed,  greater 
severity  bred  more  ominous  tumults.  Three  bands  of 
guerrillas  tramped  through  the  Legations,  venturing 
occasionally  into  the  towns  and  then  escaping  to  the 
Apennines,  but  without  being  able  to  provoke  a  general 
insurrection.  At  length,  after  six  weeks  of  confusion 
and  fruitless  anxiety.  Cardinal  Spinola  authorized  Freddi, 
Fontana,  and  other  servile  minions,  to  conduct  a  military 
tribunal;  and  they,  by  wholesale  arrests  and  condemna- 
tions, in  a  short  time  restored  order. 

Mazzini,  not  sobered  b}-  this  failure,  ])lanned  another 
attempt  in  1844.  He  ado])ted  the  same  tactics:  the 
Neapolitans  were  assured  that  the  Komagnoles  were  on 
tiptoe  to  rebel  as  soon  as  word  should  come  to  them  that 
the  Neapolitans  were  up ;  the  Komagnoles  were  urged  to 
emulate  their  Neapolitan  brothers,  who  waited  but  for  a 
sign  from  them.  But  at  the  first  ripi»le  of  restlessness  in 
Calabria,  the  government  arrested  twenty-one  suspects, 
seven  of  whom  were  summarily  shot  and  the  rest  sent  to 
the  galleys;  wliih^  Dcli-arretto,  for  greater  security,  im- 
])risoned  on  sus])icion  tlie  most  ])r<)nniit'nt  Lilx-rals  in 
Naples.  Tl»is  rel)uff  only  exasperated  the  chief  consj)ir- 
ators,  wlio  wove  their  plots  in  safety  in  Paiis  and  Lon- 
don, to  a  more  vigorous  etYort.  They  decreed  that  the 
mighty  insurrection  sliould  astonish  tlie  world  and  rid 
Italy  of  her  des])ots  (hiring  the  month  of  May.  A  thou- 
sand volunteers  were  to  fly  over  sea  from  Corsica;  Malta 
was  to   contribute    her   (juota    of   banished  j)atriots ;  the 


442  THE   DAWN   OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

Spanish  allies  had  promised  their  aid ;  the  Ticinese  were 
to  descend  upon  Lombardy  and  Piedmont,  where  the 
populations  were  as  tinder,  needing  but  one  spark  to 
ignite  them.  In  his  imagination,  Mazzini  already  saw  the 
fires  of  Liberty  engirdling  his  beloved  land;  he  already 
saw  the  purifying  flames  sweep  from  north  to  south, 
reducing  thrones  and  principalities  to  ashes,  through 
which  the  tender  blades  of  the  Republic  already  pierced. 
But  he  did  not  see  that  at  his  very  elbow  was  a  traitor, 
Partesotti,  who  duly  reported  to  Prince  Metternich  the 
glowing  hopes  and  careful  arrangements  of  the  Great 
Conspirator;  nor  did  he  learn  until  too  late  that  his  let- 
ters were  opened  by  the  British  Postmaster-General,  and 
that  their  contents  were  communicated  to  the  govern- 
ments against  whom  Mazzini  was  plotting. 

Unfortunately,  these  delusive  expectations  seemed  facts 
to  many  fervent  minds,  among  others  to  Attilio  and 
Emilio  Bandiera  and  to  Domenico  Moro,  three  young 
Venetian  officers  in  the  Austrian  navy.  The  Bandiera 
were  sons  of  that  admiral  who,  in  1831,  had  captured 
the  ship  on  which  the  refugees  set  sail  from  Ancona  and 
had  brought  them  to  Venice.  But  the  sons,  fired  by 
patriotism  and  Mazzini's  appeals,  yearned  to  show  their 
love  for  Italy.  They  proposed  to  seize  an  Austrian  fri- 
gate, —  which  they  believed  might  easily  be  done,  since 
the  Austrian  marine  was  manned  chiefly  by  Venetians,  — • 
and  sail  into  the  port  of  Messina,,  where,  they  were  told, 
the  Sicilians  were  ripe  for  rebellion.  But  failing  to 
incite  a  mutiny,  the  two  brothers  and  Moro  deserted  from 
the  Austrian  service  and  met  at  Corfu.  There  they  soon 
gathered  a  little  band  with  which  to  cross  the  Adriatic 
and  begin  the  glorious  war  of  redemption.  The  Bandiera 
scorned  the  offers  of  pardon  and  reinstatement  that  Aus- 
tria made  to  them  through  their  mother;  they  resisted 
her  entreaties ;  they  heeded  only  the  seductive  letters  of 
Mazzini,  and  the  reports  which  emissaries  spread,  and  cas- 


THE  POLITICAL   KEFORMER8.  443 

ual  sea  captains  confirmed,  that  the  Neapolitan  and  Papal 
masses  were  but  waiting  for  a  leader.  Mazzini  declared 
afterwards  that  he  tried  to  dissuade  the  generous  youths, 
but  they  wrote  to  him  that  it  was  necessary  that  the  few 
who  were  born  to  martyrdom  should  j)lunge  into  the  vor- 
tex of  even  a  foolhardy  attempt  in  the  hope  of  drawing 
the  wavering  and  timid  after  them.^  At  length,  brook- 
ing no  more  delay,  they  and  their  comrades,  twenty  in 
all,  set  sail  from  Corfu  on  the  night  of  June  12-13, 
1844,  and  landed  three  evenings  later  (June  16)  near  the 
mouth  of  liiver  Neto,  in  Calabria.  A  peasant  under- 
took to  guide  them  to  Cosenza,  about  forty  miles  inland, 
where  they  intended  to  liberate  a  large  batch  of  political 
prisoners  and  to  fire  the  revolutionary  train.  For  three 
days  they  wandered  among  the  wooded  Calabrian  moun- 
tains; then,  as  they  halted  in  a  ravine  near  S.  Giovanni 
in  Fiore,  they  were  surrounded  and  attacked  by  Royalist 
troops.  After  a  brief  skirmish,  in  which  two  of  them 
were  killed,  they  were  forced  to  surrender ;  and  then  they 
learned  that  Boccaciampe,  who  had  lagged  behind  on  a 
previous  day  imder  the  pretense  of  weariness,  had  has- 
tened to  Cotrone,  betrayed  them  to  the  police,  and 
brought  them  to  this  disaster.  They  were  tried  at  Cosenza 
and  condemned  to  death,  but,  as  was  the  hal)it  with  the 
Bourbon  government,  only  nine  of  them  —  half  the  num- 
ber of  captives  —  were  executed.  Early  (m  the  morning 
of  July  25  they  were  led  to  execution.  They  went  sing- 
ing the  patriotic  song, 

'■  Clii  per  la  patriii  miiore, 
Ha  gii  vissuto  assai,'" '" 

and  conscious  heroism  was  in  their  gait  and  on  their  coun- 
tenances,   as    they    passed    through    the     heavy-hearted 

J  Nisco  :    hWilfniimlo  II.  (.-(lit.  of  1SS4),  08. 
^  III'  wlio  for  liis  fountry  dies, 
lias  yet  lived  loiij;  eiiou^jh. 


444  THE   DAWN   OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

crowd,  which  did  not  dare  to  show  its  sympathy  for 
them.  Ranged  in  line,  they  shouted,  "Long  live  Italy!  " 
and  awaited  the  death-volley.  When  the  smoke  cleared, 
only  one  of  them,  Lupatelli,  remained  standing:  "Fire 
again !  "  he  cried  to  the  soldiery,  and  a  moment  later  he, 
too,  fell. 

Thus  was  quenched,  as  if  it  had  been  a  penny  taper, 
that  torch  of  heroism  wherewith  the  Bandiera  brothers 
thought  to  kindle  Mazzini's  noble  conflagration.  Nine 
corpses  huddled  into  a  grave ;  eight  living  bodies  cast  into 
a  Bourbon  dungeon,  there  to  rot  slowly;  the  traitor  Boc- 
caciampe  alone  to  escape,  —  such  the  pitiful  but  inevita- 
ble ending  to  such  an  exploit.  And  yet  from  that  grave 
there  exhaled  a  light  of  glory.  All  Italy  had  followed 
the  prisoners  during  their  trial,  had  hoped  for  their  re- 
prieve, had  been  moved  to  admiration  by  the  courage  with 
which  they  had  at  last  faced  the  muzzles  of  their  execu- 
tioners. Even  their  defense  before  the  tribunal  —  they 
declared  that  they  had  hoped  the  King  would  wink  at 
their  expedition  and  put  himself  at  their  head  in  a  war  of 
independence  —  was  not  cited  to  tarnish  their  memory. 
Ferdinand  became  more  than  ever  execrable,  —  had  he 
not  willingly  played  the  executioner  for  Austria  ?  —  and 
thereafter  no  sane  man  believed  that  he  could  be  enticed, 
for  the  sake  of  dynastic  ambition,  to  ally  himself  with  the 
Liberals.  But  Mazzini  also,  and  those  other  promoters 
of  insurrection,  who  from  their  own  safe  shelter  spurred 
impetuous  and  brave  youths  on  to  perdition,  were  bitterly 
condemned  by  that  growing  body  of  Moderates,  who  had 
come  to  see  that  conspiracy  was  inadequate  and  therefore 
harmful.  Mazzini  tried  to  exculpate  himself  by  writing 
an  account  of  his  dealings  with  the  Bandiera,^  but  he  did 
not  abandon  his  revolutionary  apostolate;  on  the  con- 
trary, he  assailed  the  Moderates  as  lukewarm  time-serv- 
ers, and  he  inveiglied  agairst  them  as  the  worst  enemies 
1  Mazzini,  iii,  262-8lM. 


THE  POLITICAL   REFORMERS.  445 

of  Italy.  In  his  great  scheme,  a  few  failures  meant  no- 
thing ;  the  blood  of  martyrs  would  but  sanctify  the  cause ; 
examples  of  devotion  were  needed,  —  victims  to  tyranny 
who  should  make  tyranny  odious;  proofs  to  the  Italians 
that  they  were  engaged  in  no  holiday  revel,  but  in  the 
sternest  and  noblest  of  undertakings.  Idealist  that  he 
was,  he  listened  unmoved  to  critics  who  accused  him  of 
wilfully  neglecting  to  reckon  with  human  nature.  "  You 
set  up  a  sordid  and  selfish  standard,"  he  replied,  "and 
you  call  that  human  nature.  But  all  reforms  have  been 
wrought  by  men  who  believed  that  mankind,  at  their 
worst,  are  meliorable  to  an  unknown  degree.  Calcidate 
only  on  selfishness,  and  only  selfishness  responds;  appeal 
to  the  best  instincts,  and  these  leap  forth  invincilde." 
So  Mazzini  held  fast  to  his  trust  in  the  virtue  of  the 
masses,  and  in  the  efficacy  of  his  methods  for  rousing 
that  virtue.  Few  reformers  have  been  great  enough  to 
resist  the  pride  which  is  born  of  a  strong  intellect,  —  the 
pride  which  persuades  them  that  they  are  indisj)ensable, 
if  not  infallible;  and  we  may  in  part  attribute  Mazzini 's 
stubbornness  to  this  desire  to  appear  to  himself  and  to 
others  as  one  that  could  not  be  wrong.  Such  self-confi- 
dence is  the  badge  of  all  fanatics,  —  whether  of  those  who 
succeed,  and  are  called  benefactors  of  the  race,  or  of  those 
who  fail,  and  are  called  visionaries  or  blunderers. 

The  pathetic  fate  of  the  Bandiera  and  tlieir  few  com- 
rades had,  therefore,  tlie  effect  of  o])ening  many  eyes  to 
the  futility  of  conspiracy,  without  causing  the  conspiring 
leaders  to  relax  their  propagandism.  From  London, 
Paris,  and  Malta,  their  agents  sped  shuttlewise  through 
the  Peninsula  to  weave  a  new  web  of  revolution.  Heark- 
ening to  them,  the  republican  convert  in)agined  that, 
although  he  could  count  but  few  confederates  in  liis  own 
district,  all  th(»  rest  of  the  country  was  swarming  with 
them;  as  would  be  proved  to  him  when  the  signal  for  the 
general  insurrection  should  l)e  fired.      To  the   Moderates 


446  THE   DAWN   OF   ITALIAN   INDEPENDENCE. 

this  procedure  seemed  cowardly  and  fraudulent;  but 
there  is  no  more  evidence  that  the  incendiary  leaders  held 
themselves  aloof  from  danger  out  of  cowardly  or  deceitful 
motives,  than  that  the  zealous  directors  of  the  Board  of 
Foreign  Missions,  who,  from  their  comfortable  quarters 
in  London  or  New  York,  send  out  young  missionaries  for 
cannibals  or  jungle  fever  to  devour,  have  any  other  than 
the  most  pious  intent.  Indeed,  what  surer  proof  of  self- 
abnegation  can  you  give  than  this,  —  that  you  step  back 
and  allow  your  comrade  to  win  martyrdom  and  glory  at 
the  cannibal's  or  the  cannon's  mouth  in  a  cause  which  you 
esteem  more  precious  than  fine  gold,  or  than  life  itself? 
And  would  not  that  commander-in-chief  be  deemed  cul- 
pable, who  should  risk  his  person  in  the  front  file  of  his 
army  ? 

The  fusillade  at  Cosenza  caused  the  conspirators  to 
reflect  and  to  apologize,  but  it  did  not  make  all  of  them 
prudent.  Against  the  States  of  the  Church  and  Naples 
the  sects  redoubled  their  machinations,  hoping  to  secure 
from  the  Pope  reforms  which  Austria  would  not  veto,  and 
to  hasten  in  Ferdinand's  kingdom  a  revolution  which 
France  and  England  would  allow  to  take  its  course.  But 
Ferdinand  was  too  vigilant,  and  the  attempts  against  his 
tyranny  failed ;  whereas,  in  the  Papal  States,  and  espe- 
cially in  the  Legations,  a  faction  of  the  conspirators  kept 
up  so  active  an  agitation  that  the  Holy  Father  resorted  to 
his  favorite  instrument  —  a  Military  Commission  —  for 
suppressing  it.  At  Bologna,  it  speedily  condemned  a  few 
suspects;  and  then  passed  on  to  Forli,  where,  however, 
the  new  legate,  Cardinal  Gizzi,  would  not  appeal  to  it. 
At  Ravenna,  Cardinal  Massimo,  a  prelate  who  made 
rigor  his  watchword,  availed  himself  of  the  Commission's 
willingness  to  chastise;  but  its  zeal  was  so  excessive  that 
when  the  sentences  were  published,  the  Pope  ordered  that 
they  be  mitigated.  So  the  spring  and  summer  of  1845 
saw  martial  law  set  up  at  several  points   in   Gregory's 


THE   POLITICAL   REFORMERS.  447 

dominion,  yet  without  restoring  tranquillity  or  allaying 
the  fear  that  a  still  more  formidable  eruption  might  at 
any  moment  befall.  A  group  of  sectaries  had,  indeed, 
planned  an  insurrection,  but  after  reconnoitring  the  coun- 
try and  recognizing  that  the  conditions  were  immature, 
they  issued  from  Tuscany  a  manifesto  in  which  they  called 
the  civilized  world  to  witness  the  hideousness  of  the  Pa- 
pal government  and  the  justice  of  those  who  protested; 
and  they  stated  the  reforms  without  which  no  peace  nor 
compromise  could  be  reached.  This  "Manifesto  of  Ki- 
mini,"  of  which  Charles  Louis  Farini  was  the  principal 
author,  is  one  of  the  most  damning  indictments  ever  drawn 
up  by  intelligent  and  fair-minded  subjects  against  the 
wickedness  and  incompetence  of  their  ruler.  Its  very 
sobriety  makes  the  grievances  and  the  accusations  more 
horrible,  and  bespeaks  sympathy  for  the  demands.  The 
petitioners  asked  that  the  promises  of  1831  and  the 
changes  suggested  in  the  Memorandum  of  that  year  be 
fulfilled ;  that  amnesty  and  civil  and  criminal  codes  be 
granted ;  that  laymen  be  allowed  to  fill  those  offices  which 
citizens  have  a  right  to  administer;  that  the  foreign  mer- 
cenaries be  dismissed,  and  a  Civic  Guard  organized ;  that 
education  and  the  press  be  unshackled;  that  municipal 
liberties  be  revived.  Exorbitant  favors,  indeed,  to  ask, 
in  1845,  of  Gregory  XVI,  who  had  for  fourteen  years  been 
insisting  that  sucli  demands  were  instigated  by  Beelzebub, 
and  that  merely  to  think  them  was  heresy,  while  to  utter 
them  was  liigh-treason.^ 

There  was  anotht'r  grou])  of  sectaries,  however,  wlioiu 
this  mere  Declaration  of  Wrongs  could  not  satisfv,  — 
men  of  action,  who  were  determineti  to  ])recii)itate  a  con- 
flict. About  a  hundred  of  them,  at  the  instigation  of 
Peter  Kenzi,  roused  the  ])opulace  at  liiiniui  on  Sejjtein- 
ber  23,  and,  without  difficuhy,  took  possession  of  the 
city.       For   thn^e   days   they    ruled    traii([uilly,    awaiting 

'  T«(xt  in  Farini,  i.  '.'S-U-J. 


448  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

news  from  their  confederates  of  similar  success  in  the 
neighboring  towns.  Then  a  detachment  of  Papal  troops 
bore  down  on  Rimini,  and  Renzi,  with  his  supporters, 
beat  a  retreat,  some  to  embark  for  Trieste,  others  to  cross 
the  Apennines  and  seek  refuge  in  Tuscany.  A  second 
squad  of  insurgents,  after  a  brief  skirmish  near  Faenza, 
also  withdrew  across  the  Tuscan  frontier.  The  affair  was 
trivial  enough  in  itself,  but  its  sequel  caused  intense  ex- 
citement; for  the  Papal  government  clamored  for  the 
extradition  of  Renzi,  and  the  Grand  Duke,  instead  of 
complying,  gave  him  a  passport  for  France;  whereat  the 
Liberals  everywhere  rejoiced. 

Presently  there  issued  a  pamphlet,  "On  the  Recent 
Events  in  Romagna,"  that  was  eagerly  read  by  the  Ital- 
ians and  attracted  wide  attention  beyond  the  Alps.  The 
author  of  this,  the  third  significant  political  treatise,  was 
Marquis  Massimo  d'  Azeglio,  who,  like  Gioberti  and 
Balbo,  was  a  Piedmontese.  In  the  variety  of  his  natural 
gifts  he  resembled  the  great  Italians  of  the  Renaissance, 
and  he  added  to  this  rare  combination  of  talents  common- 
sense,  integrity,  and  charm.  He  was  born  (1798)  into 
the  stiff,  punctilious  aristocracy  of  Piedmont,  amid  which 
a  prosperous  career  lay  open  to  him  either  in  the  govern- 
ment or  the  army ;  but  a  sense  of  humor,  a  love  of  inde- 
pendence, and,  above  all,  a  desire  to  achieve  fame  as  a 
painter,  made  a  treadmill  life,  whether  at  court  or  in 
camp,  intolerable  to  him.  When  he  announced  to  his 
family  that  he  had  resolved  to  adopt  the  profession  of 
painter,  they  were  as  much  shocked  as  if  he  had  expressed 
the  intention  of  becoming  a  bootblack  or  a  burglar.  For 
a  young  noble  to  prefer  a  studio  to  the  royal  antechamber 
seemed  madness ;  but  the  youth  persisted,  and  his  father 
reluctantly  acquiesced.  Massimo  went  to  Rome,  spent 
several  years  in  hard  study,  lived  frugally,  and  gradually 
earned  reputation  and  a  livelihood  from  his  paintings. 
Having  removed  to  Milan,  where  he  married  Manzoni's 


THE  POLITICAL   REF0RMEE8.  449 

daughter,  he  wrote  two  historical  romances,  "Ettore  Fie- 
ramosca  "  and  "Nicolb  de'  Lapi,"  which  brought  him  a  lit- 
erary popularity  second  only  to  that  of  Manzoni  himself. 
He  was  inspired  by  patriotism,  but  a  rational  and  tem- 
perate patriotism,  which  despised  rant  and  abhorred  the 
dagger.  He  was  sympathetic,  without  being  in  danger 
of  losing  his  individuality;  he  kintUed  enthusiasm,  ad- 
miration, love,  without  being  himself  too  heated  to  "  think 
clearly  and  see  straight."  This  happy  balance  between 
heart  and  head,  this  genial  temperament  and  knightliness 
of  manner,  made  friends  of  all  who  knew  him ;  while  his 
romances  endeared  him  to  thousands  who  had  never  seen 
his  face. 

By  a  happy  chance,  he  had  made  a  journey  of  inspec- 
tion through  the  Papal  States  and  Tuscany  in  this  very 
month  of  September,  1845.  He  went  to  canvass  public 
opinion,  and  there  was  at  that  time  no  other  Italian  so 
well  fitted  for  that  work.  His  reputation,  his  contacts 
with  men  of  all  ranks,  his  alertness  and  insight,  his 
downright  honesty  and  freedom  from  prejudice,  gave 
him  unique  advantages.  Unattached  to  any  sect,  he  had 
friends  and  confidants  in  all  sects.  He  found  the  majority 
of  Liberals  disgusted  with  the  incendiary  methods  which 
hatl  proved  so  futile  and  ruinous,  and  he  tried  to  lead 
them  to  regard  Charles  Albert  as  the  redeemer  in  whom 
they  might  trust.  But  they  remembered  Charles  Al- 
bert's defection  in  1821  and  jxTsecution  in  1832,  and 
were  ske])ti('al.  So  D'  Azeglio  reasoned  with  them:  "'If 
we  asked  tlie  Kinir  to  do  somethiufr  ajrainst  his  interest, 
out  of  pure  heroism  to  aid  Italy,  we  mij^ht  well  doubt  him; 
but  we  ask  him  to  l)enefit  himself  and  us,  — to  allow  us 
to  assist  him  to  l)eeome  greater  and  more  powerful  than 
he  now  is.  If  you  invite  a  robber  to  be  honest  and  lie 
promises,  you  may  doubt  lest  he  prove  false;  but  to  invite 
him  to  rob,  and  then  for  you  to  be  afraid  that  he  will  not 
keep  his  word, — tiulv,  I   see  no  sense  in   it."'     Argu- 

'    D'Azejjlio:    /  Miii   Hi  nnli.  \\.  A'o^. 


450  THE   DAWN   OF   ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

ments  like  these  show  how  deeply  rooted  was  the  distrust 
of  Charles  Albert,  —  a  distrust  which  D'  Azeglio  himself 
still  felt,  although  he  believed  in  the  destiny  of  Pied- 
mont, and  that  the  King  might  be  swept  by  the  popular 
tide  to  the  accomplishment  of  that  destiny.  Preaching 
caution  and  patience,  he  was  gratified  to  find  that  the 
majority  acknowledged  the  wisdom  of  his  counsels. 

The  turbidence  of  Renzi  and  his  accomplices  furnished 
D'  Azeglio  with  the  text  for  his  pamphlet.  He  wrote,  as 
he  had  spoken,  frankly,  fearlessly,  repudiating  the  insur- 
gents for  their  rashness,  pointing  out  that  the  time  had 
gone  by  when  such  ebullitions  were  justifiable,  and  de- 
claring that  they  harmed  the  patriotic  cause  by  rousing 
dissensions  and  involving  crueller  repression  at  home,  and 
by  giving  foreigners  ground  for  believing  that  the  Ital- 
ians were  a  violent,  fickle  people,  unworthy  of  sympathy 
and  incapable  of  self-control.  But  having  reproved  the 
sectaries  and  their  methods,  he  went  on  to  describe  the 
Papal  government,  not  abusively  but  calmly,  laying  bare 
its  rottenness,  its  iniquity,  its  senile  feebleness,  its  greed 
and  hypocrisy.  That  civilized  men  should  revolt  against 
such  an  administration  was,  he  said,  inevitable,  and  Eu- 
rope, which  abetted  that  monstrous  misrule,  ought  not  to 
blame  those  who,  in  a  spasm  of  anguish,  tried  to  emanci- 
pate themselves  from  it.  When  a  sufi^erer  cries  out,  "I 
can  endure  this  no  longer!  "  it  is  not  for  the  healthy  to 
say,  "You  can."  But  the  sufferers  had  by  this  time 
learned  that  by  their  outbursts  they  only  increased  their 
pain ;  it  behooved  them  to  devise  other  means :  to  abandon 
physical  for  moral  protests,  to  be  strenuous  but  temperate 
in  i^ublishing  their  grievances,  until  the  public  opinion 
of  the  world  should  plead  in  their  behalf.  That  was  a 
power  which  no  king,  nor  the  Pontiff  himself,  could  long 
resist.  "  With  your  hands  in  your  pockets  you  can  win 
the  public  opinion  of  the  world  to  your  cause,"  D'  Azeglio 
told  his  countrymen. 


THE   POLITICAL   REFORMERS.  451 

His  tract,  first  printed  at  Florence,  roused  immense 
enthusiasm.  Gioberti's  "Primacy"  had  filled  two  octavo 
volumes;  D'  Azeglio's  pamphlet  could  be  read  in  an  hour, 
and  thereby  had  a  great  advantage.  It  slipped  past  cus- 
toms-officers and  policemen ;  it  was  reissued  clandestinely 
from  many  presses;  it  was  read  and  discussed  every- 
where. The  Grand  Duke  took  alarm  at  it.  His  aged  ad- 
viser Fossombroni  was  dead ;  dead  also  was  Neri  Corsini, 
who  had,  like  Fossombi'oni,  warded  off  the  encroachments 
of  Rome  and  Austria;  and  the  new  minister,  Cempini, 
who  succeeded  them,  was  either  timid  or  honestly  retro- 
grade. D'Azeglio,  therefore,  was  commanded  to  quit 
Tuscany.  This  silly  harshness  only  increased  the  demand 
for  the  little  book  and  added  to  its  author's  popularity. 
The  Florentines  gave  him  a  farewell  banquet,  and  well- 
wishers  from  all  ])arts  of  Tuscany  flocked  along  the  route 
he  traveled  to  the  frontier;  so  his  journey  into  exile 
resembled  a  trium])lial  progress. 

Other  ill-advised  and  unpopular  acts  gave  warning 
that  tlie  Grand  Duke  was  falling  ba(rk  into  the  ranks  of 
Absolutism.  lie  handi'd  over  Kenzi,  who,  contrary  to 
his  promise,  had  returned  from  France,  to  the  Papal 
government;  he  listened  to  overtures  from  the  long-ex- 
cluded Jesuits ;  and  when  the  Pisan  professors  protested 
against  the  establishment  of  a  convent  of  the  Sisters  of 
the  Sacred  Heart  at  Pisa,  his  ministers  formally  repri- 
manded them.  But  in  ])n>p<n-tion  as  the  (iraud  Duke 
lost,  Charles  Albert  gained  in  popularity  among  the  Liber- 
als during  the  early  ])art  of  184G.  They  were  encouraged 
by  tlie  report  of  the  interview  which  D'  A/eglio,  return- 
ing from  his  canvassing  tour,  liad  had  with  the  King. 
After  D'Azeglio  liad  given  the  gist  of  his  conferences 
with  the  leading  Moderates  whom  he  liad  soundeil  on  his 
journey,  Cliarles  Albert  uttered  these  mcmoral)le  words: 
"Inform  those  gentlemen  to  remain  (juiet  and  not  to 
move,  as  there  is  at  i)resent  nothing  to  do;   but  lit  them 


452  THE    DAWN    OF    ITALIAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

be  assured  that,  when  the  occasion  presents  itself,  my 
life,  the  life  of  my  sons,  my  arms,  my  treasure,  my  army, 
—  all  shall  be  expended  for  the  Italian  cause."  ^  A  little 
later,  a  dispute  arose  between  Piedmont  and  Austria  over 
the  transportation  of  salt  through  Piedmont  to  Switzer- 
land. Austria  would  have  coerced  the  King,  but  he  did 
not  quail,  although  Metternich  threatened,  and  took  re- 
prisals by  doubling  the  duty  on  Piedmontese  wines  ex- 
ported into  Lombardy.  Liberals  who  had  with  good 
reason  distrusted  Charles  Albert  now  began  to  see  in 
him  the  possible  fulfiller  of  Italy's  hopes.  His  subjects 
greeted  him  with  acclamations  wherever  they  saw  his  tall 
figure  and  melancholy  face.  He  basked  in  an  April  sun- 
shine of  popularity.  But  he  was  still  hemmed  in  by 
ministers,  courtiers,  and  priests  unconverted  to  Liberal- 
ism ;  he  was  still,  and  must  always  be,  limited  by  his  Ham- 
let nature,  —  quick  to  wish,  slow  to  will,  —  and  though 
he  had  daunted  Austria  over  a  matter  of  salt  and  wine, 
could  he  be  relied  upon  to  break  irrevocably  with  the  Past 
and  declare  a  national  war?  Rigid  Count  Solaro,  at 
least,  would  never  consent  to  see  his  sovereign  embark 
on  the  deceptive  stream  wliieh  flowed  into  the  whirlpool 
of  revolution.  So  there  followed  petty  official  acts  which 
threw  the  Piedmontese  into  suspense  concerning  Charles 
Albert's  sincerity  of  purpose.  He  seemed  fated  to  be  a 
puzzle,  a  weathercock,  to  the  end. 

But  the  wide  circulation  of  the  political  writings  of 
Gioberti,  Balbo,  and  D'Azeglio  was  a  symptom  of  im- 
pending change.  Hitherto,  patriotic  tracts  had  issued 
from  the  secret  societies,  and  had  been  read  on  the  sly ; 
the  works  of  these  three  responsible  and  temperate  men 
prevailed,  in  spite  of  reluctant  censors,  in  securing  a 
quasi-legitimate  circulation,  and  in  awakening  a  healthy 
discussion.  They  were  theoretical, — -''The  Primacy," 
indeed,  was  but  a  fantastic  dream,  —  but  theories  invari- 

^  D'  Azeglio  :   Ricordi,  ii,  462. 


THE   POLITICAL    REFORMERS.  453 

ably  precede  acts,  as  the  vague  nebula  antedates  the  star. 
Treatises  of  all  sizes,  and  freighted  with  divers  sugges- 
tions or  nostrums,  were  launched  in  the  wake  of  these  pio- 
neers. Gioberti  himself  dashed  off  a  volume  of  "Prolego- 
meni  "  to  his  "Primacy,"  and  then,  changing  his  attitude 
towards  clericalism,  he  poured  out  five  volumes  of  diatribe 
on  "The  Modern  Jesuit."  Durando,  a  military  officer, 
proposed  that,  the  Austrians  having  been  expelled,  Italy 
should  be  divided  into  three  Kingdoms,  two  to  be  ruled 
by  Charles  Albert  and  Ferdinand  of  Naples,  while  the 
Pope  and  the  Dukes  ruled  the  third.  ^  Ricciardi,  an 
ardent  Mazzinian,  showed  how  easily  independence  and  a 
republic  could  be  won.^  "A  Sicilian"  discoursed  on  the 
strength  of  national  sentiment ;  Canuti  and  Capponi  drew 
fresh  pictures  of  the  outrageous  Papal  government. 
Less  popular,  but  not  less  valuable,  were  the  contribu- 
tions of  two  men  who  understood  how  tightly  the  econom- 
ical question  was  bound  up  in  the  political.  Petitti, 
writing  on  the  extension  of  the  railway  system,  and  Ca- 
vour,  writing  on  railways  and  England's  tariff  reforms, 
aided  the  great  cause.  Henceforth,  the  Italians  had  no 
lack  of  printed  counsel,  wise  or  foolish.  But  they  nuist 
be  patient,  for  the  moment  to  convert  counsel  into  deeds 
had  not  come.  Gregory  XVI  still  lived.  At  the  Vati- 
can, they  knew,  was  the  source  of  that  evil  system  whicli 
corrupted  tlie  entire  Peninsula,  and  with  prayers  on  their 
lips  and  yearning  in  their  hearts  they  watched  for  news 
from  Pome.  That  ancient  compact  of  the  Paj)acy  with 
Mammon  had  borne  this  hideous  fact, — a  wliole  ]H>o])le 
l)eli(!V('d  tliat  neither  justice  nor  happiness  nor  virtue 
could  proceed  from  (iri'gory.  the  re])resentative  of  Al- 
mighty (iod  and  tlu;  Vicar  of  Jesus  Christ;  therefore 
they  ])rayed  that  (iregory  might  die. 

'  Giacoiiio  Duraiidij:    Ihlla  Xaziondlila  Italiana  (Lausanne,  1.S4G). 
2  Cvn/urti  aW  Italia  (Paris,  lS4i;). 


14- 


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